


Broken Arrow

by Gabrielle



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 67,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabrielle/pseuds/Gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Set in BTVS S3 after Helpless* When being fired by the Watchers Council doesn't end Giles's commitment to his Slayer, a jealous Ethan Rayne decides to take matters into his own hands. Unfortunately, it seems he never learned that even a Chaos Mage can't control the chaos that ensues when a spell is performed while under the influence of a very liquid sort of spirit... and Willow and Angel are about to serve as an object lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Broken Arrow (Prologue)  
  
  
  
A glass of brandy, refilled more than once this night, stood on a side table, its colour mellowed by the yellow glow of a small table lamp in an otherwise dark room. On the sofa beside sat a small man of unassuming appearance staring at a faded photograph showing him in earlier days… but not alone. His companion was a dissolute-looking young fellow in a leather jacket and the two had their arms slung around each other with more than casual familiarity.  
  
As he continued to gaze at the souvenir of bygone times, the small man’s gaze narrowed. “Damn you, Rupert.” The words were nearly spat in a soft, slightly slurred, British accent, flavoured by alcohol and bitterness. “The Council kicks you out on your arse, but do you come home? Home where you belong? Dear me no. You stay here. Here!” With that, he waved one arm in a dramatic gesture that narrowly missed knocking over his glass of brandy. “So I abandon my interests and come back to Sunnydale, expecting to find you lost and broken and in need of companionship and guidance. But what do I find instead? Her! That girl, that wretched Slayer, keeping you in her thrall, locking you up in her harem, one of her merry band of eunuchs!” Taking the glass from the side table, he drained it and set it down, empty, on the coffee table before him instead. “By rights I should just leave you to your miserable fate – growing old and withered as you stay and life passes you completely by. It’s no more than you deserve.”   
  
He sighed and leaned back against the back of the ponderous leather sofa. “But I can’t, can I? No, you bastard. You have me as surely as she has you… as surely as she has so many. Too many. All dancing attendance on her as though she were Helen of Troy.” Another heavy sigh… and then… then a throaty chuckle. “Oh, but Rupert, one man has never fallen under her sway. One man sees her for the blowsy little guttersnipe she truly is, unworthy and common. One man has power… and the will to use it.”   
  
Getting up, he turned on the overhead lights then went over to a stack of books piled messily next to a set of shelves, sorting clumsily through them until he found a volume that looked old and fragile. He paid no heed to its age, hoisting it onto a large table and opening it with an energy that imperiled it. Rifling through its pages, he came at last to what he sought: a spell. A powerful spell.  
  
Without hesitation, he made quick work of unlocking a cabinet and getting out a number of small, mysterious-looking bottles and a chalice before going to a set of weapons and choosing… an arrow. Gathering all of the items together on the table, he opened the bottles and poured their contents into the chalice before setting everything into its prescribed place, each position carefully considered... well, as carefully considered as possible by a man drunk on brandy and the prospect of revenge. Then he began to intone the spell.   
  
“Nyx, Eris, Eros, Ate….”  
  
Magic crackled in the air and a fog surrounded the table before fading into a soft light then vanishing altogether.  
  
It was done. All that remained was a bit of craft and some legwork.  
  
As he contemplated the mischief and chaos to come, he didn’t worry in the slightest about the powers that he’d invoked with his spell. No, indeed. He felt quite pleased with himself, in fact, and poured himself another glass of brandy to celebrate his imminent triumph over Buffy Summers.  
  
“Let the games begin.”  
  
Not once did it occur to Ethan Rayne that he might have done better to wait until he was sober.  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	2. Chapter 1

Broken Arrow (Chapter 1)

 

For most men, arranging circumstances to best assure an optimal outcome to a rather specific spell would have been a daunting task. Ethan Rayne, however, was not most men, and while your average fellow didn’t have owners of exclusive boutiques, managers of disreputable nightclubs, or rumour-spreading demons in their address books, Ethan did, so he didn’t hesitate - calling in favours owed, making erotic promises he might or might not keep – depending on his whims and Rupert’s alacrity in scooting back to the bed in which he belonged – all in order to assure that the stage was perfectly set for tonight’s festivities.

So now – with Cordelia Chase and her swain having been invited to a cocktail party for a designer of the moment and a certain werewolf off desecrating the fair name of music in a disreputable dive two hours from Sunnydale – Rupert, his loathsome Slayer, and a certain bright but rather naïve wallflower of a sidekick were here at the cemetery, intent on foiling the evil plot of a brash young wizard who was rumoured to have come to Sunnydale with the intention of raising an army of zombies.

The things children believed these days.

Good thing, that, however, since if Rupert weren’t as silly and easily gulled as the lambs he shepherded… Ethan looked for a moment at the slight, red-haired figure toting a knapsack and felt a bit of a pang. Poor thing. He had no grudge against her and it was a pity she had to be involved, but there was no help for it. An object of desire was needed, one who wasn’t Buffy, but who must be female and – for the desired result to be achieved – must also be one whose ultimate violation would be entirely unforgivable. Little Miss Rosenberg was the ideal candidate. Of course, the events about to unfold would make things rather awkward and difficult for her and that werewolf of hers and there was the matter of Rupert taking… Oh well. If she relaxed, she might even enjoy it. Lord knows, Ethan always did.

Then, once the deed had been done, Ethan would release the magic he’d summoned from the arrow and the spell would be lifted, leaving poor, outcast Rupert burdened with guilt over deeds he no longer understood, unburdened of a passion unbidden, and in desperate need of shelter and comfort… a need Ethan was ready, willing, and able to meet.

All that remained was for the Rosenberg girl to step away from her chums just long enough for Ethan to fire that arrow, the arrow which would make its target the object of ever-building, obsessive desire from the first man to lay eyes on her once struck. Then, when the object of his own desire went to her rescue… the rest might as well be considered a fait accompli. Of course, were the arrow to be broken… well, no need to concern himself with that. After all, he would be right there to retrieve it once the cast of his little drama had left the stage.

“Are you sure this is where they’re making Night of the Living Dead?”

Ah. If Ethan wasn’t mistaken, that shrill, annoyingly flat, uncultured whine belonged to one Buffy Summers. Hail, hail, the gang’s all here. He took his place behind a tree looking into the clearing… the perfect place for a novice, would-be witch to set up a protection spell for her friends.

His fingers itched where they held the bow and arrow. It wouldn’t be long now.

Something felt wrong, or really, nothing felt wrong, which was totally wrong. If there were bad guys around, Buffy’s spider senses usually did their dance, but now? Nothing. They were standing by the wall like Andrew Wells at the Spring Fling, not even tapping their feet.

“I’m not getting a George A. Romero vibe here at all.”

“Buffy,” Giles began, exasperated at yet another pop culture reference. Buffy was like a daughter to him, but there were times when that meant that she drove him to distraction.

Which she then did even more thoroughly by interrupting him. “All I’m saying is I don’t feel the presence of any baddies.”

“But would you if they’re human?” Willow asked.

“Precisely.”

His relief at Willow’s sensible observation was short-lived since he then endured an irate glare from Buffy and another confusing riposte. “I still think we’d be better off calling Miss Cleo.”

Okay, if Buffy and Giles insisted on bickering, Willow decided she’d better make herself useful, so, toting her supplies, she tossed an “I’m just gonna go and set up the protection spell,” over her shoulder as she headed for the clearing to do just that. Setting down her backpack, she got out the ingredients she needed and did a quick inventory. Sacred sand? Check. Protection blend? Check. Urn of Osiris? Check and double check.

The sand slid easily through her fingers as she made her circle… but now she had one of those feelings Buffy didn’t have. Was that wizard here? Because she sure felt like someone was watching her. Stopping what she was doing, she stood up straight and looked around. “Is anyone there?”

All of a sudden, she felt a stinging pain in her back. “Ow!” Never again. She was never, ever again going to be stupid enough to ask if a bad guy was there. Of course, she thought as she crumpled to the ground feeling dizzy and losing consciousness, there might not be an again for her to be smart in.

There’d been a rumour that Spike was back in town and Buffy had insisted he check it out, but Angel had decided to disobey. His senses told him that none of the members of the Aurelius line were nearby and he was worried that the rumour had been spread to get him out of the way and leave Buffy more vulnerable to that new wizard she was going to be dealing with tonight. So here he was, following her from a safe distance, when he heard a soft, feminine cry. It sounded like Willow.

The wizard must have attacked.

Rushing toward the sound of her voice, Angel saw her lying crumpled on the ground – alone. The concern he felt for her surprised him with its intensity, but her predicament was too dire for him to give the matter immediate thought. What mattered was that she’d been attacked and Buffy and Giles were nowhere to be seen. Kneeling down, he gathered the insensible girl into his arms. “Willow? Willow?”

Ethan had prudently turned away the moment he fired the shot, gloating as he heard Willow cry out, but then… Buggering hell! That was not the voice he’d expected to hear. What in the devil was that thrice-damned vampire doing here? His whole bloody spell was ruined! If Buffy’s pathetic swain left her, she’d latch onto her precious Watcher more tightly than ever. This could not have gone more pear-shaped. He turned and his heart sank as he gazed in horror at Angel holding Willow in his arms… just as that wretched Slayer came rushing into the clearing, Rupert on her heels. “What happened?”

 

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 2

Broken Arrow (Chapter 2)  
  
  
  
What happened?” Oh god. Willow. Why was Willow unconscious? Buffy wanted to kick herself. While she was busy arguing with Giles that there probably wasn’t really any danger, it turned out there _was_ … and it had found Willow.  
  
“Willow’s hurt,” Angel growled, his eyes flashing gold.   
  
At that, Buffy was stopped short. Angel’s reaction bothered her. Willow was her best friend, absolutely, and _she_ was worried about her, but Angel? Angel had almost vamped out a second ago and that was completely unlike him. What was wrong?  
  
Okay, now she felt shallow and selfish, because getting all worked up about her guy was really not the most important thing she could be doing right now. Willow was still unconscious. “Did you see who did this?”  
  
“No,” he shot back. “And it looks like no one else did either, because she was out here all alone.” For a split second, he wanted to ask himself why he was so angry with Buffy, but then Willow moaned and it all made sense. She was hurt and it should never have happened. The girl was no Slayer. Someone should have been with her.  
  
His hand absently stroked her hair, but his attention was on her face – her eyelids moved ever so slightly. Was she regaining consciousness?  
  
“Anyone get the license plate?” she asked, confusingly, as her eyes finally opened.  
  
The world looked awfully funny, what with the sky being in her line of sight, along with the tops of trees and it took Willow a second to realize it was because she was lying down… and she was being held by Angel. Yeah, a license plate number would be so, so helpful right now.  
  
But then she remembered… “I was… I think I was shot… with… something.” Wow. Way to be vague there, Willow. Good thing that’s not how she answered her AP History questions – at least she didn’t _think_ so.  
  
Still, in her own defense, she was feeling pretty foggy, plus – prone, not her customary position, except when she was sleeping, of course.   
  
A second later, Buffy’s face was right there. “Did you see who did it? Are you okay?”  
  
“No.” As she spoke, she struggled to get up, but…   
  
“Take a minute. You’re hurt.” Okay, the solicitude was nice and all, but since when was Angel her nursemaid?  
  
“I’m okay, really.” But she stayed where she was. Which was pretty much her only option since Angel wasn’t letting her move.  
  
Giles felt rather helpless… and more than a bit concerned. He scanned the perimeter, though his senses were possibly the least useful out of all of them, trying to determine if the danger had passed or if they were about to come under attack.   
  
He felt… something, though he wasn’t quite sure what, but nothing seemed to be coming forward to assail them. It was puzzling and while he knew he’d be chided for this, he said, “I don’t understand. We’re not under attack.”  
  
Just as he feared, both Buffy and Angel looked at him as if he were mad.  
  
“And that’s a bad thing, because…?” You know, Giles’s love of doom and gloom had passed the point of being an endearing personality quirk and was now approaching psychosis. Was it all the concussions?   
  
“I didn’t… it’s… it’s not a bad thing, it’s just…” At least the stammer showed that he was aware of his own issues. Buffy figured that had to be a hopeful sign.   
  
“It’s just that whatever it was is gone and we’ll have to find it later but for now we just enjoy the fact that Willow’s not…,” no, she was not going to use the d-word, “…badly hurt.” Nice save, but the unexpressed thought lurked in the back of her mind and she felt overwhelming guilt and the tension of the kind of fear that hits after the fact.   
  
Willow could have been killed.  
  
Grudgingly, Angel decided to heed Willow’s rather obvious wishes and let her get up, but he insisted on helping her, and that was a good thing. It was instantly apparent that she was still woozy and unsteady on her feet, so he stayed close beside her and supported her against him. No, he wasn’t going to think about why that pleased him – not now, anyway.   
  
“She shouldn’t have been alone.”   
  
“They were just a few feet away,” Willow argued, “and it seemed totally safe.”   
  
It was sweet the way she was defending Buffy and Giles, but Angel was having none of it. “You shouldn’t have been alone.”  
  
“It’s kind of ironic,” she said, seemingly out of nowhere, and he was puzzled, until she finished, “I mean, I was setting up a protection spell and…”   
  
She chuckled self-deprecatingly, but Angel didn’t laugh. “You could have been hurt or…” The thought chilled him to the bone and he put his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder.  
  
Gee, the concern was nice and all, but the more conscious Willow became… no, it wasn’t getting any less confusing. Maybe Buffy told him she was the one who restored his soul or something. Yeah. That had to be it. He was feeling all guilty and grateful and stuff. Okay. Still weird, what with the sort-of-hugging thing going on, but not entirely inexplicable. “I’m okay, though. See? And hey – not unconscious anymore. That’s good, right?”  
  
Everyone still seemed worried, though, and Willow felt guilty. At the same time, she was wondering – what the heck had she been shot…? Just then she moved one foot back and felt something crack under her shoe. “Oh. Ow. What was…?” Maneuvering out of Angel’s grasp, she bent down and picked up the pieces of a newly-broken arrow. “Guess this is what I got shot with, huh?”  
  
Bugger! Of all the… That wretched, stupid girl! She had no idea what she had just done. Ethan all but bit his tongue to keep from screaming in frustration and rage. All his plans… hopes… dreams… fantasies… desires… all for naught. Oh Chaos, your servant could not be more bereft.  
  
What had he done… or not done? Had he not offered supplication to all the right gods? Had his offering displeased them somehow? Or worst of all, was he no longer their favoured Chaos mage? Some explanation, there must be _some_ explanation for how everything he had so carefully set in motion had somehow turned to disaster in mere moments.  
  
Oh well, he supposed he would have to take what spare pleasures remained as he watched this all unfold from afar. At least he knew that Buffy – and Willow, for that matter – would still suffer for depriving him of what was rightfully his.  
  
With that, Ethan carefully and quietly departed for his flat. Being discovered here would only ruin things even more.  
  
At any rate, when the chaos he’d never intended came about, perhaps Rupert would be distraught enough about it all to need a… friend. The thought made him smile. Perhaps things would come right after all. Ought to get out those silk sheets and the finest brandy in the next day or so, eh, old chap?  
  
Never let it be said that Ethan Rayne couldn’t make the best of a bad situation.  
  
Hmmm… you know, he hadn’t thought of this before, but he wondered… would his ‘interest’ in Willow cost that bastard Angel his soul?  
  
Once he was well out of earshot, Ethan allowed himself a hearty chuckle.  
  
Fasten your seat belt, Slayer. You're in for a bumpy night.  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	4. Chapter 3

Broken Arrow (Chapter 3)  
  
  
  
  
“Are you sure you’re okay?”  
  
Yes, Buffy was totally aware that she’d asked Willow this same question about, oh, ten times in the past three minutes, but cut her some slack – Willow was her best friend, and something about this whole situation was giving her a wiggins.  
  
“I’m fine, Buffy. I promise. Really. See?” Willow smiled. “All fine here.”  
  
Buffy barely heard her. Not to sound like Giles, but… “I’m glad this guy was no William Tell, but it’s kind of strange that all he does is shoot one arrow and disappear. He had to know he didn’t kill her, right? I mean, the arrow fell out and…” That brought up something else and she turned to Angel. “Are you sure you don’t smell _anything_ on that arrow?” To emphasize her point, she fished the arrow out of her backpack and handed it to him, eyebrows raised in a ‘hey, sniff this,’ way.  
  
Angel took the arrow from Buffy, but his own expression made it clear he was annoyed with her for questioning him. Did she think he wasn’t paying attention? That he didn’t care about Willow’s safety? But to appease her – and Giles, who was glaring at him, narrow-eyed – he raised the half with the point on it to his nose and inhaled in deep and exaggerated fashion. No, it smelled only of wood and metal. Was he the only one who was _relieved_ that there was nothing untoward about it?  
  
“It’s clean.” He shifted uncomfortably in the armchair to which he’d been relegated in Willow’s living room, watching as Buffy paced back and forth. It was easier than looking at Willow.  
  
His feelings for her seemed strangely intense and he was torn between experiencing them as totally natural and yet feeling uneasy because he couldn’t recall being this concerned about her before. Still, it made more sense that he _did_ than that he once _didn’t_ , so… “You have a nice house.” Why did he say something so foolish?  
  
Gosh. Willow was taken by surprise here. None of her friends had ever said anything about her house before. Did he really like it? Or was he just being polite? Either way, it would be rude not to answer, so she did. “Thanks. My Mom did all the decorating.” She smiled as she spoke, sort of glad that if nothing else, the topic of her getting shot might be over and done. Okay, it was wimpy of her to pass out from kind of a minor flesh wound, but maybe that had happened because she’d been about to do magic or something and anyway the more they went on and on about it, the more likely she’d be relegated to the sidelines and not allowed to go out on patrol or anything anymore. “She did my room too.” Hopefully Angel actually _liked_ her room – if he even remembered it. He was pretty focused on Buffy that night.  
  
Angel smiled… wait – he smiled? Willow sure wasn’t used to seeing that expression and it threw her for more than a bit of a loop. “I’m glad you’re okay.”  
  
“Me too.” Please let this not be a segue back to the topic of her getting wounded, because that would not be good at all. Oh shoot! Because suggesting avenues of research to learn the identity of the culprit would also take them back to that topic. Great. Maybe she should keep her mouth shut completely. Well, except for… “Would you guys like anything? Tea? Cookies?” She thought for a minute and added, sheepishly, “I’m sorry I don’t have any blood, Angel.”  
  
Giles was about to demur, but then he thought better of it. After all, it was rude to refuse the offer of refreshments from one’s hostess, and at any rate, he badly needed…“Some tea would be lovely. Thank you.”  
  
Willow bounced up and headed off to the kitchen…  
  
…followed by Angel.  
  
Was he the only one who found that unnerving? No, judging by the expression on Buffy’s face, he was clearly not alone in his assessment, but he stopped her before she could follow in turn. There were other things he wanted to discuss. “Do you think we’ve seen the last of the assailant?”  
  
  
  
Willow was just getting the box of tea down from the cupboard when she heard movement behind her and whirled around. “Angel! You scared…” He looked so crestfallen that she immediately backpedaled in mid-sentence. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect to see you in here. I thought you’d be out there – with Buffy.” He didn’t seem to feel a whole lot better and she felt like a bumptious oaf, especially since he’d said such nice things about her house. “Hey! You could help me with the tea. You’re probably way better at brewing it than I am, seeing as how you come from that whole tea-drinking part of the world.”  
  
He smiled – well, sort-of, anyway – as he took the box from her and she felt at least somewhat better. And hey – bonus! – maybe she’d learn something about brewing better tea. She watched carefully as he went about the process.  
  
Huh. It didn’t look so different from the way _she_ did it and Giles always grimaced slightly after the first sip. Oh well. It could be that _he_ was the one who didn’t know anything about the way tea was supposed to taste. Wait… okay, that _wasn’t_ how she did things. Angel might have a better technique after all.  
  
Trying to look expert before his unblinkingly studious audience of one, Angel struggled to recall just exactly what went into the brewing of tea. He was a vampire, damn it, and hadn’t been called upon to make this stuff in… a long time, that was for sure. Even when he was human, his taste had run to a more potent potable. Spike, however, had retained an uncharacteristic fondness for this stuff and by calling up a recollection or two of his boy’s rather melodramatic tea rituals, he was able to – he hoped – get a decent pot made.  
  
Willow was uncharacteristically quiet, but it felt somehow companionable, not tense - the way silence always was with Buffy – and he realized, as the tea was finished and cooling to a drinkable temperature, that he was enjoying the time he spent with her. Why hadn’t he ever sought out her company before?  
  
Shaking off his thoughts, he poured a cup of tea for Willow, who seemed pleased. “This is good. Way better than when I do it.” She took another sip. “I’m totally going to have to remember everything you did.” A pause and a furrowed brow followed, as if she was trying to conjure up a lost train of thought… which, unfortunately, she was. “Oh! I better get a tray and some more mugs so we can take this in to Buffy and Giles.”  
  
Angel stifled a growl as he helped her. He already hated to see their time alone end and he experienced a surge of possessiveness as they made their way back into the living room to join the others.  
  
This time, it didn’t occur to him to wonder why his feelings were so different from what they’d been before.  
  
  
  
In a small flat, a Chaos Mage was doing some pacing of his own and wondering how the devil his exquisitely careful planning had come a cropper. Oh well, he reminded himself – at least there was still chaos. He sat down in his favorite chair, steepling his hands as his lips curved slowly upward in a cruel smile. What remained for him to plan? How exactly he was going to manage a front row seat.  
  
Oh, there was also the matter of those silk sheets and the vintage brandy. After all, in the end, despite all the unexpected twists and turns of the road he’d meant to be so straight and true, Ripper would still wind up right where he belonged. But in the meantime… Ah yes, in the meantime…  
  
Poor Miss Rosenberg. Whatever would become of her?  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	5. Chapter 4

Broken Arrow (Chapter 4)  
  
  
  
Angel was quiet, even for him, as he walked her home and Buffy was getting another wiggins. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah.” Great, one syllable. One not-very-sincere-sounding syllable. This was turning out to be a terrible night.  
  
“You sure? Because you don’t sound…”  
  
“I said I was fine,” he snapped, interrupting her and sounding very, very not-fine.   
  
Since when did he act like this with her? “Fine.” Yes, that was sarcasm, but it was totally warranted. She was about to say something to make sure he got that she was totally and completely not-genuinely-fine with the way he was acting, but the second they arrived at her house, he turned and walked away.   
  
What? “Angel…” But he kept going and didn’t look back. A part of her wanted to chase after him, force him to tell her what was wrong, but she was an independent, late-20th-century kind of girl and she didn’t do things like that.  
  
For the rest of the night, she wished she had.  
  
As Angel made a hasty retreat from Buffy’s company, he struggled with all the strange and difficult emotions roiling within him. He was vaguely aware of her calling after him, and even more vaguely aware that he was going to have to deal with the repercussions of just walking away from her like this, but his focus was on how concerned he was about Willow…  
  
…and why it had taken him so long to care this much.  
  
It didn’t make any sense. Even before she’d given him back his soul, Willow had been there for him – always willing to help; the only one, really, who’d been supportive of his relationship with Buffy. While that latter part might have been naïve on her part in light of how things went so horribly wrong, it didn’t detract from the essential fact that she’d been his friend, perhaps the only friend he’d had in… well, in far longer than mortals could comprehend. Not like Whistler counted; he’d had an agenda.  
  
So why had she barely figured in his thoughts until tonight?  
  
He had so much for which he needed to atone, but his lapse in this regard vaulted to the top of the list, partly because this was something about which he could actually do something. So all right. Starting tonight, he would be the friend to Willow that she had always been to him. With something almost resembling a smile, he changed course and headed back in the direction of Willow’s house.  
  
  
  
Tonight had definitely been of the weird. Checking just below her shoulder in the bathroom mirror and a hand mirror, Willow couldn’t even see a mark. You’d think an arrow would leave… something, wouldn’t you? But no, it wasn’t even pink, let alone red or scarred or anything. A pillow would have left more of an impression.  
  
She was having a wiggins, bordering on a mild freak-out. How could she have lost consciousness from something that didn’t even...   
  
Oh god. What if Angel was wrong? What if there _had_ been some kind of poison on that arrow? You know, even though cyanide had the scent of bitter almonds, not everyone was able to smell it. Could there be a poison that was like that for demons? And had _she_ been dosed with it?  
  
Breathe, Willow. Breathe. Inhale, exhale, repeat. Remember?   
  
It was just like riding a bike, only with lungs instead of feet, and… you know, her thoughts were wacky even by her own standards. She should get with the breathing thing and focus on that.  
  
Once she was back on the oxygen consumption train, she put on her nightshirt, returned to her bedroom, and powered up her trusty laptop. Research time. She needed to get on the internet and see if there was anything out there about poisons that flew under the demon-senses-radar.   
  
It didn’t take her long to find the site with the best compendium of supernatural poisons and toxins – her bookmarks made the Council database look pathetic (which it was) – and soon she was reading page after page of ever more disturbing potions and compounds. Eek! No, she was not going to even entertain the possibility that she’d been exposed to Grank venom.   
  
But what if she was? It was colourless…odorless…  
  
And there was no known antidote.  
  
She shuddered in terror and everything she’d remembered about the mechanics of breathing started to get vague once more. Oh god. It was possible that this very venom was coursing through her veins right this second. What was she going to do? The thought of her limbs turning black and scabrous and then transforming into…  
  
Suddenly there was a sound and she leapt from her chair. What was…? Oh! The door. Someone was at her balcony door.   
  
It had to be Xander. Buffy had probably told him all about what happened tonight and he was here to check on her and… no, she was not going to share her fears. It wasn’t like there was anything anyone could do and the less everyone else had to suffer, the better. She’d carry this by herself as long as she could – which wouldn’t be long, though, according to Venkman’s Guide.  
  
Telling herself that she knew the job was dangerous when she took it didn’t help much, but she still managed to plaster a smile on her face as she walked over and opened her door and exclaimed, “Hey, Xan… You’re not Xander. You’re Angel. Why are you Ang… I mean, hi. Come in.”  
  
  
Willow was the only human besides Buffy who’d ever openly invited him into her home knowing what he was. It was a gift that he cherished even as he found himself inexplicably irritated by the fact that she’d clearly expected Xander to be at her door. Oh well, no real mystery there. He’d never been able to stand that boy.  
  
Satisfied with this logical explanation for his feelings, he focused on solving another mystery: Why was Willow’s cheery demeanour so forced? “Are you all right?”  
  
Of course, her smile grew even broader and she nodded vigorously in the affirmative. “Oh yeah. I’m fine. Better than fine.” That clinched it. Something was very wrong. He was about to question her further when she posted a query of her own instead. “Was there something you needed?” Her brow furrowed but then her eyes widened, eyebrows raised. “Oh! Do you want me to look up something on the net again?”  
  
He felt a shadow come over him. He’d almost been insulted except… yes, in the past that was all he’d ever done – ask her to look things up for him or help him in some cause that had nothing to do with her. What a selfish, thoughtless bastard he was.  
  
As he castigated himself, though, his eyes went to that very computer she’d just mentioned and he saw what she’d been reading just before he arrived. “Grank venom?”  
  
At that, her wide eyes took on the look of a deer caught in the headlights. “It’s a project. For school.”  
  
Any other time he’d have laughed at the ineptitude of her lie, but not now. It was clear why she was looking at that page and what the reason behind her false bonhomie was. “You’re still worried about that arrow, aren’t you?” And yes, he really was insulted that she clearly did not trust his senses. Was he such a poor excuse for a friend that she had no faith in him even as a demon?  
  
“No… I mean…” There were tears in her eyes now and he felt horrible once again. How could he be angry at her when she was clearly in crisis. “There’s no mark, Angel. No mark at all. Not even a tiny bruise. I was shot with an _arrow_ , a pointy, metal arrow, and you can’t even tell. So I was just thinking that maybe there was some poison that was like cyanide and not everybody could smell it and… and I found this. It has no smell, Angel. None! I could be poisoned. I could be about to experience a horrible, ugly, agonizing death and there’s nothing anyone can do!”  
  
She was sobbing now and Angel grabbed her, pulling her close and holding her. As he did, he inhaled deeply, taking in her scent… and smiling. “You haven’t been poisoned with Grank venom, or any other poison.”  
  
“You don’t know that,” she choked out, her voice muffled against his chest, “You can’t smell…”  
  
“You’re right, I can’t smell the poison itself, but I could smell the changes in _your_ scent and there aren’t any.”  
  
She looked up, eyes watery and full of cautious hope. “Really? You’re sure?” He nodded. “You’re not just saying that?”  
  
“I’d never lie to you.”  
  
Suddenly, her arms were around him and she was squeezing him in the happiest embrace he thought he’d ever felt. “Thank you!” she squealed. “Oh god! I was so worried. But then you….” She continued to babble, eyes bright with joy now and a smile like sunshine, but he couldn’t hear a word.   
  
Something… he was feeling something… no. This wasn’t… “I have to go.” As quickly as anything, he disentangled himself from her embrace and left without answering a single of the questions she asked as he hastened from her home.  
  
What the hell had just happened?  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	6. Chapter 5

Broken Arrow (Chapter 5)  
  
  
  
  
Giles hadn’t slept well at all and he felt reluctant to get out of bed come the morning. Duty called, however, so he performed his necessary ablutions and then went to make his mandatory pot of tea.  
  
Though not even his irreproachable Earl Grey could take away his lingering anxiety and unanswered questions.  
  
What in the devil had that business in the cemetery been about? And how could that arrow have been simply an ordinary arrow when Willow had been left unconscious?  
  
It wasn’t that he doubted Angel – well, actually, to be quite honest, he did. Or rather, he didn’t wholly trust him. Soul or no, every time he looked at him, he saw the demon who had murdered Jenny lurking behind his eyes. Admittedly, there was no good reason why Angel would lie about the properties of the arrow, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.  
  
Which meant that there was no telling whether Willow would suffer further ill effects.   
  
When he’d become a Watcher, everything had seemed so simple – one girl to assist, one purpose. Now, however… They were all his charges and he cared about the friends who’d joined the Slayer’s fight almost as much as he cared about Buffy.  
  
As Giles went to get dressed and prepare himself for another day in the library, he resolved to keep an eye on Willow… and on Angel.  
  
  
  
Ethan awoke in a foul mood – largely because he’d woken up at all. He’d been having the most delicious dream – starring Rupert and himself, of course – and some blasted fool on a loud motorbike had roused him at the precise moment when…  
  
And bugger all! There went that bloody motorbike again! Some weedy young lout was riding it around and around the block to impress a cow-eyed female, Ethan would wager.  
  
If only it were Rupert riding it… dressed in that leather jacket Ethan remembered so fondly from the way it looked on the floor of his flat back in the good old days, but no… Not _yet_ , anyway. Because if anyone could make lemonade from hemlock, it was Ethan Rayne, and he wasn’t going to let this inconvenient – though eminently entertaining – spanner wreck his exquisitely crafted machine. No, he’d just fiddle with the gears a bit and all would come right in the end – he’d already figured that out last night.  
  
So what remained this morning? Figuring out how to get an orchestra seat for the opening act. Oh Buffy, you self-absorbed little chav, whatever will you do now that your one true love is about to reach higher than the gutter?   
  
As he contemplated the hijinks soon to come and plotted the logistics of watching the show, Ethan wondered: Should he be American about this and lay in a supply of popcorn?  
  
  
  
Willow had pretty much gotten over Angel being all rude and weird last night by the time she got to school and any further contemplation was forgotten in the wake of what awaited her. Namely, a full-blown Xander freak-out. “You were shot?” Thanks, Buffy.   
  
“How did things go with you and Cordelia?” she asked, trying to change the subject. Also, she was hoping that being forced to attend a fancy party together had been the catalyst for Cordelia and Xander getting back together. Not that Willow still felt guilty about the fluke or anything.  
  
Okay, maybe she did. But it sure felt unfair that Oz had forgiven _her_ and Cordelia was still making Xander suffer. After all, how big a deal was one kiss?   
  
Well, one kiss that anyone had actually seen.  
  
All right, yes, it was a very big deal and Willow had been a skanky ho and she wished like anything that she could undo the damage she’d done.  
  
“Cordelia was in her element. Lifestyles of the Rich and Tactless. As for me, well, there were tiny little things on trays that I’m told were food, but having tasted some of them, I’m still not convinced, and my Dad’s tuxedo got me mistaken for a server twice. But I’m told I did my job very well – you know, nodding, smiling, keeping my mouth shut. Cordelia was almost civil to me for two whole minutes on the drive home.” The usual Xander sarcasm, but there was a sort of something in his voice that Willow couldn’t place. She decided to let it give her hope.  
  
“Still, it’s sort of cool that your name was on the invitation too. Kind of like fate.”  
  
“Actually, it’s more like you changing the subject. Don’t think I didn’t notice.” He was giving her a stern glare and she sighed heavily. She just knew that a lecture was coming.  
  
She wasn’t disappointed. “Haven’t we learned that magic equals badness?”  
  
Did he just go there? “This did not happen because of a teeny little protection spell,” she protested. “And anyway, I hadn’t even finished drawing the circle!”  
  
Just then, they were joined by another person Buffy had blabbed the whole thing to before Willow could get the chance. “Heard you had quite a time last night.”  
  
“Oz! Hi!” She turned and hugged her guy, enjoying him hugging her back and glad for his monotone. Maybe he could teach it to Xander. “How was your gig?”  
  
“Not nearly as exciting as patrol, apparently. Now I’m not the only one of us who’s been shot.”  
  
“It was only an arrow and it didn’t even break the skin, okay? Everyone’s been making a big deal over nothing.” And no, she was not going to mention her late-night freak-out over Grank venom. Since her limbs were not, in fact, going to transform into huge, scabrous, black wings and she wasn’t going to die shortly after… just forget it. Angel had cleared everything up and allayed her fears, so the whole thing… well it was just like it hadn’t even happened. Especially since Angel had gone all hasty-exit-y.   
  
“So you fainted because some arrow barely touched you?” And now Cordelia’s scornful tone was heard. “Good thing no one’s life depended on you. Oh wait. Aren't you supposed to be this magical protection girl?” Great. This morning just kept getting better.   
  
“We didn’t actually need the protection spell, but it’s really nice of you to be so concerned.” Riding to the rescue didn’t feel too heroic when the dilemma was her own fault. Buffy was now wishing she hadn’t spread the news far and wide. Not like Willow needed to be ambushed. Chalk it up to needing to focus on things that weren’t Angel, but that was still a lame excuse for falling down in the best friend department. “You look none the worse for wear.” This time she was talking to Willow. Damage control – better late than never.   
  
“I feel totally fine,” was Willow’s reply, offered with a perky grin that registered as one hundred percent genuine.   
  
“See? Much ado about nothing, guys. You know, that wizard didn’t even show up, and now that I think about it, that arrow? It was probably shot by some stupid kid going all Ted Nugent or something. Sunnydale is too modern of a Hellmouth for the kind of bad guys who haven't evolved way past the hunter/gatherer stage.”  
  
And on that note, the bell rang. Everyone peeled off and headed to their respective classes. Phew. Mission accomplished. By lunch, everyone would be too worried about pop quizzes or, in the case of Cordelia, someone else wearing the same sweater as she did to bother Willow about last night anymore.  
  
Of course Buffy herself was another matter, and since she and Willow both had trig… “Are you positive you’re okay?”  
  
The exasperated sigh was kind of over-the-top but Buffy let it pass. She probably had it coming so she said as much. “Okay, okay. I get it. All is well.” That wasn’t completely true, though, and Willow immediately noticed.  
  
“You have ‘Angel’ face,” her friend noted with way more perception than Buffy was comfortable with. Was she that easy to read?  
  
On the other hand, she was kind of glad for the chance to talk about it, so she pulled Willow off to a corner and was grateful that she didn’t seem to care about being late to class, “He was weird last night. I mean, he said he was fine, but he sounded completely not-fine.”  
  
“Did you ask him about it?”  
  
“I did, but then he was rude and just… left.”  
  
“Oh gosh! He did the same thing to me!”  
  
Huh?   
  
Buffy must have said that out loud because Willow explained, “He stopped by to check on me, which was nice, but yes, also weird, and then he just left too – and right when I was in the middle of a sentence.”  
  
“Angel was at your house?”  
  
“Uh-huh. It must have been right after he left you.”  
  
This was giving Buffy a wiggins that was certainly way out of proportion, but she couldn’t help it. She was about to ask more questions when the shadow of evil suddenly fell over them. “Ladies. Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” in two part harmony, and with that Buffy and Willow headed to trig, the beady stare of Principal Snyder following them all the way. Guess the twenty questions would have to wait.  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	7. Chapter 6

Broken Arrow (Chapter 6)  
  
  
  
The last bell rang. Class dismissed. Finally! Buffy had been waiting for this sound since first period. She really wanted to know what Angel had been doing at Willow’s house last night. Had he said anything about what was bothering him? What had they talked about? Had he even mentioned Buffy at all?  
  
So she made a beeline for the library, intending to drag Willow up to the stacks and grill her – in a totally nice, non-aggressive or prying way, of course, a way that wasn’t actually _grilling_ at all, now that Buffy thought more about it, but just a friend asking friendly questions of another friend in a friendly…  
  
Okay, it would be grilling.  
  
Still, she was going to do it. Willow was standing right there, unoccupied; she hadn’t even turned on the computer yet. All that remained was to find some not-totally-lame pretext to lure her best friend up to the stacks.  
  
But the arrival of someone completely unexpected thwarted her plans.   
  
“Angel. Hi.”   
  
It was sort of weird that Angel showed up right now, but Willow was sure he was here to see Buffy and make it up to her for being all rude to her last night, so she decided to give them some privacy.   
  
“How are you doing?” Okay… Angel was talking to _her_? Because Buffy was standing five feet away and he wasn’t even looking at her. Weird just got even weirder.  
  
“I’m okay, thanks.” Angel was still staring at her and Buffy looked lost and so… “I’m just gonna go do that thing I have to do. In that place that isn’t here.” With that, she made a hasty exit from the library. Next stop: the computer room. At least that was a place where she always understood what was going on.  
  
Angel fought back the impulse to go after her. He had no desire to face Buffy right now, not alone, not when the focus was going to their relationship – whatever it had become.  
  
Now that he was looking at her… it brought home just how foolish he was. That sad and desperate longing to feel human, the dream that the love of a Slayer – of _this_ Slayer – could somehow purge the demon. How horribly wrong had _that_ notion been?  
  
Could love be real if it resulted in pain and death?  
  
He didn’t pray anymore, but he was grateful that the prayer he’d have offered if he did was answered by the arrival of several others all at once.   
  
“All I’m saying is that it wasn’t food.”  
  
“Oh. So you’re saying that Twinkies _are_? Xander! That was caviar!”  
  
Angel had never been so glad to hear Xander’s voice – actually, it was the first time he’d ever been glad to hear it at all, but that was neither here nor there. “Xander. Cordelia.” Well, this was awkward. He had no idea what to say to either of them now. There was no imminent apocalypse or unidentified bad guy to bring them together.  
  
“Hey there.” Faith. You know, he still didn't know what to think about her. She was a wild card; she didn’t have Buffy’s sense of mission. Oh. Wonder what Cordelia would say if she noticed how Faith was eyeing Xander. Would she be eyeing _him_ if Buffy weren’t there?  
  
“Hey there yourself,” Buffy answered dispiritedly. The universe really hated her. First there was that stupid Cruciamentum, then Willow got shot on a mission to stop a bad guy who probably didn’t even exist, and now any chance to figure out what was up with Angel had been blown by way too many untimely arrivals. Was it too much to ask that she be allowed to have _one_ measly conversation today? Because it seemed like every time she wanted to do more than say hello, something got in her way.   
  
Maybe she should just give in and accept the inevitable disappointments of life. Oh, and see about adding to the crowd at this party. “Anyone know where Giles is?”  
  
At that precise moment, the man himself emerged from his office, a book in his hand and an annoyingly worried expression on his face. She wasn’t psychic – would it have killed whoever was in charge to make that a Slayer power? – but she’d bet Xander’s comic book collection that there was research in her immediate future.  
  
“Oh, Buffy. It’s good that you’re here.” It was then that he noticed Angel. What on earth was that vampire doing here? Was there an apocalypse of which he was unaware or had he… ?“Did you learn something? About the wizard?”  
  
Perhaps Angel was on the right side after all. Looking around, and noticing Willow’s absence, Giles also wondered, “Is there something you were afraid to say last night?”  
  
His answer was a shake of the head accompanied by an “I just came to check and see if Willow was all right,” that frankly unnerved him. He wasn’t the only one. It was clear that Buffy was none too happy, though how could she be under any circumstances? It wasn’t as if she and Angel had any kind of a future. Giles wondered, and not for the first time, if it would have made a difference had he opposed their romance more vehemently from the beginning.   
  
Of course it wouldn’t have – what a foolish idea – but that didn’t mean he didn’t wish he’d tried harder. Buffy was… well, she was more than his Slayer. She truly was like a daughter to him, even when she infuriated him with her pop culture nonsense and refusal to take things as seriously as he did.  
  
Even when she gazed longingly at the vampire who’d murdered his Jenny.  
  
“Where _is_ Willow?” he asked, finding it strange, come to think of it, that she wasn’t about.  
  
Just then, there she was, holding hands with Oz, seeming entirely well and unaffected by anything resulting from last night’s disturbing incident. That was a relief.  
  
What wasn’t a relief was the look on Angel’s face. What the devil was that vampire thinking?  
  
Oz had told her everyone else was in the library, so Willow had decided to join the gang as well. She could tell that Buffy and Angel hadn’t had the chance to talk; even Angel looked irritated, which on the one hand was good since – hey – it meant he _wanted_ to talk things out with Buffy, but on the other hand, they _hadn’t_ gotten to talk and that was bad. “Hi!” She tried to sound extra cheerful to lift the mood. The only person who didn’t look grim was Faith.  
  
At least Cordelia _was_ standing pretty close to Xander. That could be a good sign, right? “Need me to get online?” she asked, figuring that maybe the normal routine would get everything back on track.   
  
Oz smiled at her and followed behind as she headed for the computer in anticipation of Giles’s request.  
  
Angel glowered at the sight of the werewolf and a feeling surged within him that reminded him of last night. No, he reminded himself, he was not attracted to Willow. He had mistaken the admixture of relief at her not coming to serious harm and the warmth of the first friendship he’d known for something else, that was all.   
  
Why, then, was he so irritated by the presence of her boyfriend? Then his eyes drifted over for a moment to Xander and Cordelia and it suddenly became clear: It was the way Oz had treated Willow in the aftermath of that silly little kiss she’d shared with Xander. For heaven’s sakes, the two of them had been kidnapped and feared for their lives. Why Oz – and Cordelia, he conceded, though he was no fan of the Harris boy – had reacted so violently was beyond him. Willow should never have taken him back. Had he been her friend then, he’d have told her in no uncertain terms to tell Oz where to head in.  
  
It might not be too late, in fact. Now that he was part of her life… Yes, he’d be able to talk to her, make her see that she deserved a lot better.   
  
“Hey guys,” Willow caroled, drawing Angel from his reverie, “I was looking up creatures who might announce their presence with random attacks and I think I found something. There’s something called the Sisterhood of Jhe.” She turned back to the screen and her tone suddenly lost its cheer. “Umm… they might want to end the world.”  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	8. Chapter 7

Broken Arrow (Chapter 7)  
  
  
  
On an Apocalypse Scale of one to ten? The Sisterhood of Jhe barely cracked a three. Even then it was only because there was a dragon – or something that looked like one anyway, for the short time Buffy saw it before Faith cut off its head and it dissolved into goo… goo that was never, ever going to come out of these jeans. What a downer. Or, as Giles had put it, “That was rather an anticlimax.” Did anticlimax mean the incredible dullness of scrubbing demon guts out of library carpet?  
  
Xander better not complain about being kept out of this one, because he hadn’t missed anything that didn’t suck beyond the telling.  
  
“Nice work.” And yes, she was being sarcastic, but Faith was barely doing any of the clean-up, instead, she was failing miserably at disguising the fact that she was ogling Angel…  
  
… Who wasn’t looking at either of them.  
  
He was looking at Willow, who was picking bits of some scaly appendages out of the modern literature section. It looked like Ayn Rand was toast. Hey! Did that mean she wouldn’t have to read The Fountainhead for English after all? Because frankly, Buffy needed some extra time to figure out what was going on with Angel all of a sudden – especially the part where he was all concerned about Willow.  
  
“I guess if books had to be destroyed, it’s better that they’re Ayn Rand than Angela Davis,” Willow mused to herself, even as she mourned the loss of a single printed page. Books by authors whose politics she abhorred were, after all, still books, and that made them valuable and important as temples of ideas and thoughts.   
  
She gingerly picked up what looked disconcertingly like a decomposed finger and stared at it. She didn’t recall anything that looked human being part of the not-actually-all-that-big battle, but she’d been sort of distracted by casting that shield spell no one had really needed and…  
  
“Want some help?”  
  
“Eep!” Angel’s voice startled her and she dropped the finger – or whatever it was. “Sorry,” she offered on seeing his downcast expression. “I was kind of thinky and you scared…” Oh god. He looked even more upset. She tried to fix it. “I mean _you_ didn’t scare me. I just wasn’t expecting… Even Buffy would have… I’m sorry.” Not exactly eloquent, but Angel seemed kinda-sorta less broody, so maybe it was okay. She cast a longing glance over at Oz, who was wolfy and sleeping off a triple dose of tranquilizer in the book cage. It would be terrific if she could pick up some of his stoic silence and unflappable equanimity. Then she wouldn’t get into these predicaments.  
  
Maybe he’d give her lessons as a Hanukkah gift or something. Hopefully that would work better than when he’d tried to teach her to play the guitar. Boy had she ever been wrong about the transferability of her piano skills.  
  
In the meantime, while Willow had detoured into Thought-ville, Angel was picking up the finger-thing from the floor and she wandered back into the here and now just in time to see him dropping it into the little trash bin next to her. “You don’t have to do that,” she said, almost cringing when it instantly seemed like she’d offended him – again. “I mean, Buffy’s over there trying to get intestines out of the carpet and I’m sure she could really use a hand.”  
  
Angel was becoming more and more irritated. Why was she rejecting his friendly offer of assistance? Buffy hadn’t even broken a sweat during that pathetic excuse for a battle. She was more than equal to the task of cleaning a few patches of very thin carpet. Willow, on the other hand, had expended a great deal of energy casting a shield spell. Come to think of it, someone should have stopped her from doing that since it was about as essential as the presence of two Slayers had been.   
  
Not necessary at all.  
  
Speaking of two Slayers, he noted with no small satisfaction that Faith was now helping Buffy. That should ease…   
  
Oh of course. It was just like Willow, wasn’t it? Worrying more about her friends than herself. No wonder she’d been so eager to hand over his help.   
  
There was also the fact that, in the not very distant past, his vision had been focused to the point of obsession on Buffy and Buffy alone. What an idiot he was. It was only natural for her to assume he’d rather be with her. He sighed; it was going to take longer than a couple of days to convince Willow that he really did want to be her friend.  
  
But that didn’t mean he was going to give up. Oh no. In fact, he was going to redouble his efforts.   
  
With that in mind, he made for the foulest of the demon parts and began collecting them from between scorched volumes of Atlas Shrugged. “There’s a couple of these books that I could replace from my collection,” he said after a moment, “Do you think anyone would notice if they were slightly different editions?”  
  
The beaming smile which greeted his offer looked like sunshine and Angel could feel it warm him. Maybe this wouldn’t take long after all.  
  
All right, it _was_ rather a risk, and given his track record lately, he wasn’t entirely sure his little cloaking spell would do the trick, but Ethan simply _had_ to see how things were proceeding between that Summers hag’s pet vampire and the lovely Willow Rosenberg.   
  
So here he was, at some horrid little American school, watching an amateur theatrical version of an apocalypse followed by… well, drama of a far more delicious and entertaining sort  
  
Gazing through the window, it was all he could do to keep from chortling madly with glee. Remember, dear boy, the spell created shadow, but it didn’t do much to muffle sound. So Ethan stifled his merriment and let the joy of watching the incipient disaster unfold wash over him like healing rain. Oh dear. Poor little Slayer. First she loses her status as the One Girl in All the World and now she has to watch as the demon she loves sets his fangs for another neck. And so obviously as well.  
  
That was one of the very best things about this sort of magic. It ate through subtlety and artifice like acid, leaving nothing but the primal drives of want and compulsion.  
  
Those were drives he himself knew and knew all too well.  
  
Oh Rupert.   
  
When this was all over, he at least hoped that his idiot of a beloved realized that it had been his own fault. If he’d toddled home of his own accord like a good boy… Well, maybe it was better this way. Ethan focused once more on the way Angel was staring at the oblivious innocent at the center of the spell.   
  
It won’t be long now, little girl.  
  
Was it too much to hope he could be around for her debauching?  
  
At this rate, he was going to develop quite a fondness for popcorn. It tasted marvelous with chaos.  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	9. Chapter 8

Broken Arrow (Chapter 8)  
  
  
  
The not-really-much of an Apocalypse was over, Willow was watching over Oz back at the library, and Buffy was out on patrol with Angel. The sky was full of stars and there were no bad guys anywhere in the vicinity. That had to mean it was okay to talk something not-shop, something girl-boy even.   
  
Subtle, though, she had to be subtle.  
  
“So… you were at Willow’s house the other night?” Okay, it was possible that subtlety wasn’t Buffy’s strong suit. She was trying, okay? Not like getting Angel to talk was easy at the best of times and this was anything but the best of times.  
  
“I wanted to make sure she was all right.” That was a perfectly reasonable answer, she had to give him that, except…  
  
“We had just left her house and she was fine.”  
  
The stare he fixed her with was so cold that it chilled her to the bone. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe she was putting on a brave face? That she might be hiding something? Because she was, you know. When I went back, she was looking up obscure demons on the internet. Did she tell you she was terrified that she’d been poisoned with Grank venom?”  
  
Oh.   
  
Angel could not believe how self-centered Buffy was. The girl she claimed was her best friend had been shot and all Buffy could do was quiz him about why he’d gone back to her house? Ridiculous teenage jealousy. Maybe it was time to rethink his taste in women.  
  
“I take it that’s a no,” he said, trying not to sound smug as it hit him that Willow had shared a fear with him that she hadn’t shared with Buffy.   
  
“No.” A short pause and then she added, “But we really didn’t get a chance to talk before this whole Sisterhood of Jhe thing came up.”   
  
Was it wrong that his smug feeling had grown with each word of Buffy’s rationalization? For a moment, a small voice at the back of his mind seemed to be trying to tell him something, but it quickly faded. He couldn’t imagine what those misgivings might have been about anyway. Of course it was unusual for him not to see things first and foremost through the prism of Buffy Summers, but the fact that he was finally waking up to the fact that she wasn’t the center of the universe wasn’t exactly cause for alarm – quite the reverse.  
  
“Would it have made a difference if you had?”  
  
God that was harsh. Buffy’s first reaction was anger at Angel’s cruelty, but then… Did he have a point? Shouldn’t Willow have told her about her fears, and if she didn’t, why was that? Was Buffy a terrible friend?  
  
She didn’t want to be. She loved Willow. Willow was the sister she’d always wanted, the brave friend who fought by her…   
  
In a sudden burst of insight it occurred to her: Was that what Willow was afraid of? That if she was seen as weak, she’d be shunted off to the sidelines? Buffy remembered too well her own feelings of helplessness and loss during that Cruciamentum and how frightened she’d been that she’d never be able to fight the forces of evil ever again.  
  
But Willow had to know how valuable she was, that they’d never…  
  
Then it hit her that Willow’s fears might actually be pretty rational after all.  
  
Look what they’d done to Xander – leaving him out of the latest battle ‘for his own protection.’  
  
Angel was right, wasn’t he, even if he was being a real jerk about it?   
  
There was a time, Angel realized, not long ago at all, when the look on Buffy’s face would have compelled him to take her in his arms, to kiss and console her and assure her that everything was all right and she’d done nothing wrong.   
  
Was that part of the problem? Had his foolishly besotted behavior made her as convinced of her position as the center of the universe as he’d once been?  
  
Well, it was time for what they seemed to be calling ‘tough love’ these days, though Angel had to admit that the love part of it was fading, at least on his part. In a world with more than Buffy in it, she didn’t shine nearly as brightly.  
  
Funny that the opposite was true of Willow. The more he saw her here, surrounded by countless others, the lovelier and more good-hearted she seemed. Why had it taken him so long to see?  
  
Speaking of which… “Giles is driving Willow home, right?”  
  
Buffy’s brow furrowed as she answered, “No. Willow’s staying to keep an eye on Oz. He's sleeping off a heavy dose of tranquilizers and…”  
  
He didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence. He’d heard all he needed to hear and in seconds he was a lengthy distance away, hastening back to the high school where Willow had been abandoned with no one but a caged werewolf to protect her. Didn’t anyone care about her safety? Well, Angel did, and that was all that mattered.  
  
What? “Angel?” But it was too late. He’d raced away at top speed and Buffy would have had to run almost faster than she was capable of if she were going to catch up with him… and so she didn’t.  
  
Instead, she stood there, alone in the dark, confused and hurt and fighting back tears.   
  
Was this it? Did he not love her anymore?  
  
This was even worse than that day – that horrible day – after they’d made love and Angelus had insulted her in the apartment where she’d given him the gift of her body, because this was Angel, really and truly Angel, and nothing could make it better.  
  
The teenage girl feeling her first – her forever – love slipping away wanted to go home and curl up under the covers and bawl her eyes out, but the Slayer… the Slayer had a job to do and a patrol to finish and she was going to do it.  
  
So she squared her shoulders and willed her tears to dry and got back to business. She kept walking and found herself in… oh great. Lover’s Lane. Nothing like the sight of fogged windows and the sounds of happy teenage couples indulging themselves in pleasures she’d never…  
  
Wait! That was Cordelia’s convertible! Cordelia was here… and judging by the movement of the car, she wasn’t here alone. Oh god! Poor Xander. Maybe other people’s misery loved company, but Buffy’s didn’t, and she was feeling guilty enough about sidelining him and empathetic enough to relate to his impending anguish to be heedless of being rude and intrusive.   
  
That’s right. Whatever Cordelia was getting right now, she wasn’t going to be getting it for much longer.  
  
With that, Buffy stomped over to the car, and, without heeding the fact that the male voice moaning ‘Oh god, Cordy’ sounded more than slightly familiar, pulled open the driver’s side door.  
  
“What the hell…?” came a screech from both occupants.   
  
For a moment Buffy stood frozen, mouth agape, not knowing what to do or say.   
  
Naturally, Cordelia had no such problem. “Voyeur much? Close that door this instant or I will hurt you, Slayer or not!”  
  
“I… uh… I’m… Sorry!” Buffy stammered as she did as Cordelia commanded and wandered away feeling dazed.  
  
Well, at least her misery didn’t have company after all. But how on Earth would she ever face Xander again after she’d seen him like…  
  
Oh god.  
  
She giggled helplessly as the humour of the whole thing finally hit her. You know, Xander really _hadn’t_ missed anything by not being on the frontlines tonight, in fact it looked like they'd done him a pretty big favour by giving him the night off. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she nearly collapsed with merriment.  
  
Laughter. It might not be the best medicine, but it helped. It really did help.  
  
There was plenty of time for her to be heartbroken, and she knew she’d be making the most of that time very soon. For right now, she’d just think about how Cordelia must love Xander a whole lot if she could stay turned on after seeing…   
  
... those Spiderman boxer shorts.  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	10. Chapter 9

Broken Arrow (Chapter 9)  
  
  
  
Oz was still sleeping off the massive dose of tranquilizers in the book cage, an almost gentle expression on his furry face, and Willow thought he looked like a puppy. For a demon, her boyfriend was kind of cute.  
  
Still, she wished he didn’t have to go through this. Why hadn’t Jordy’s parents warned Oz? It seemed to Willow that the parents of a baby werewolf were obligated to tell people so that they could make sure he didn’t bite them.  
  
She sighed, her gaze drifting back to the book in front of her – a copy of Anthem by Ayn Rand had survived the battle-ette tonight and she figured she might as well read it as a sort of penance for being party to the destruction of the rest of Ayn Rand’s catalogue.  
  
It was short, much shorter than Rand’s other books, and it wasn’t long before she found herself right in the middle of it, Equality 7-2521’s dilemmas becoming distracting enough that she didn’t even hear a sound when someone else came into the room.  
  
Angel couldn’t believe it – Buffy was right and Willow was here all alone with a drugged and insensible werewolf. Not only that, but she was so absorbed in the book that she was reading that she clearly didn’t realize he’d entered the library.  
  
He could have been anyone, including a demon bent on harming her. Imagine if another vampire, a soulless one had been the one to come upon her. His demon rattled its chains within him, clearly thinking of exactly what it would do to this lovely, young girl, sitting here unguarded.  
  
Those visions were disturbingly arousing and Angel fought to tamp the down.  
  
“Willow?” He had hoped the gentleness and the familiarity of his voice would forestall any fright.  
  
He was wrong.  
  
“Eep!” She leapt to her feet and whirled around. “Angel? What are you doing here?”  
  
Her words cut straight to Angel’s heart and he struggled to keep the offense he felt off his face, reminding himself that she wasn’t yet accustomed to seeing him as her friend. That would change soon; he just had to make the effort.  
  
“Buffy said you were alone here. I thought you might need…,” he was about to say protection, but then he remembered Buffy telling him something about Willow’s feminist leanings, so he stopped himself short just in time and said “some company” instead.  
  
Her smile made him grateful that he’d saved himself from the error. “Yeah, it’s just me and Oz and Ayn Rand.” She held up a surprisingly thin volume with the title Anthem. Angel barely recalled hearing of it. He had a first edition of The Fountainhead and copies of Atlas Shrugged and We the Living, but he had to admit that he’d never even looked at this one.   
  
“I’m glad I showed up then.”   
  
Angel was smiling. Wow. He was doing that around her kind of a lot lately and it was… well, he didn’t smile all soulless and demon-y like Angelus did, so it wasn’t as if she was _worried_ or anything, it was just… Boy, he sure seemed to be around a lot, too. She’d spent more time with him since she got shot than she had in all the time she’d known him before that – and that was including all the times he’d asked for her help with Buffy, which he wasn’t even doing now, which made her wonder… “Did something happen?”  
  
Oh no. He wasn’t smiling now and she felt kind of bad. “It’s just that you usually ask for my help and stuff, but you’re not doing that and…”   
  
He reached out and took her hand. “I’m sorry.” Huh? “I guess it’s taken me awhile to realize… friends. I’d really like us to be friends.”  
  
Gosh. This was… new? Unexpected? What was the word she was looking for? “Sure. I mean I’d like to be friends too, not that we weren’t already, it’s just… I guess you mean friends who talk about stuff besides slaying and demons and stuff and that would be…” She wanted to say weird, strange, or kind of bizarre, but that would be rude and anyway, now that she thought about it, it would be sort of cool to have someone who read lots of books to talk to, so she finished her sentence with “neat” and was gratified to see Angel smile again.  
  
“Have you ever read Anthem?”  
  
You know, Ethan had really expected things to have progressed far beyond hand-holding by now. He was glad, however, that he’d elected to stay through the excruciatingly boring bits of pacing and sighing and reading on the part of Miss Rosenberg. He’d been sure Angel couldn’t stay away and he’d been right. Still, was it too much to ask that he throw the pretty young thing on top of the table and have his way with her? That might even wake up the insensible wolf. Imagine how it would react to its mate being ravished mere feet away.   
  
But no. Instead there was all this softness and simpering and though Ethan couldn’t hear a word being spoken, nothing indicated that Angel was declaring his lust for the virginal maiden. Could it be that Angel’s status as a vampire might be buggering things up a bit?   
  
That had to be it. It wasn’t as if he’d prepared for the possibility of anyone but Rupert being affected, after all, and he was well aware that magic aimed at humans didn’t always function the same way on other species.   
  
The upside of course, was that it _was_ working, after all. Angel was becoming more and more drawn to the charming and oblivious little lady and Buffy was almost certainly suffering the torments of the slatternly damned as her Romeo set his sights on a superior Juliet. Not as if _she_ was as naïve as her friend.  
  
So do take heart, Ethan. At least Miss Summers was paying for keeping you and Rupert apart… for now. Things would change soon; he’d see to that.  
  
In fact, come to think of it, when Angelus was finally freed by libidinous bliss, perhaps Ethan could just _happen_ to appear and help save the day?  
  
Dear heavens, that might be just the trick! Perhaps a display of pure-hearted heroics on his part might succeed where all else had heretofore failed. Could it be that the gods had altered his spell to his _benefit_? Providing him with a clearer and truer path back into Rupert’s… good graces?  
  
He took one last look at Angel and Willow, seated side by side and poring over a book. Nothing more to see here tonight, he was certain, so he might as well head home and make plans for this new scenario.  
  
Hmm, he wondered: Would he look handsome dressed in white?  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	11. Chapter 10

Broken Arrow (Chapter 10)  
  
  
  
  
Last night was… weird, but really sort of cool. Willow had never really thought about trying to get to know Angel before and now that she had, he was really an interesting vampire. He’d seen so many neat things and gosh – he’d even met William Burroughs in an alley in New York! She totally needed to tell Oz that story, because even with the whole ‘shooting heroin’ thing – which was bad, very bad – it was still amazing that Angel had gotten to spend time with such a revolutionary writer. Even if that time included Angel getting hit on and all. Not that Willow wasn’t totally okay with the whole gay thing, it was just awkward to think of Angel… Well, think of him as anything other than Buffy’s, really.  
  
He hadn’t even mentioned Buffy once, though, and boy, that was easily the weirdest of the weird. Even when he’d lost his soul, he was ‘all Buffy, all the time’ and now… Now he was like this whole person who was interested in other things and yeah, that was probably of the good because her mother always said that building your life around someone else was a sign that you needed immediate psychiatric help, but that didn’t change the fact that it still kind of gave Willow a wiggins because… Buffy! There was an absolute Buffy exception to her Mom’s rules as far as Willow was concerned because Buffy was the Slayer, the Chosen One, and Willow knew how much Buffy counted on Angel and all that devotion.  
  
Should she bring Buffy up the next time they talked? If there _was_ a next time?  
  
With a sigh, she opened her locker, got out her Biology textbook, closed the door and… “Eep! Buffy!”  
  
Okay, starting off the day by scaring her best friend? Not exactly what Buffy’d had in mind. But it was perfectly in line with her difficult night and her depressing dreams, so… “I don’t think he loves me anymore.” You couldn’t have started with ‘hello’? Nice manners. Mom would be proud.  
  
“What happened?” Willow seemed pretty shocked, which was heartening because…  
  
“Did he say anything? I mean, I know he came back here last night and I figured…”  
  
Why did Willow look like a deer caught in the headlights? “Umm… He was here.” And why did it sound like that deer had been sucking helium?  
  
The pause that was currently happening was about to go from pregnant to in labour and Buffy decided not to wait for Willow to give her the bad news. Not like she didn’t know it already anyway.  
  
Except that hearing it out loud would make it real.  
  
“Did he say anything about me?”  
  
Willow shook her head. “No, nothing. Honest. I had no idea you guys had a fight. I mean, he didn’t talk about you at all.”  
  
Oh god! Why had she said that? She never meant to say that. What kind of a person told their best friend that the guy she loved more than anything didn’t even act like anything had happened right after they’d had a huge fight? “You know how Angel is. He’s not big on sharing his feelings. I bet that’s why he didn’t say anything.”  
  
You know? Now that she thought about it, she realized that actually _did_ explain why Angel hadn’t mentioned Buffy. She kinda, sorta felt better, except for the part where she could tell that Buffy had been crying this morning. “You guys are forever. I know whatever you guys fought about will totally blow over. He’s just…” What was the word she was looking for? “Guys. Who understands them?” _That_ was an intellectual observation.  
  
Now was the part where Buffy was supposed to say something, but she wasn’t saying it and Willow began to worry. “What happened, anyway?”  
  
“We didn’t… It wasn’t a fight. It was just…” How was she supposed to explain it to Willow when she didn’t understand it herself?  
  
“Hey, Buffy! Willow! So… what are you ladies talking about? Something that has nothing to do with me, I’m sure.”  
  
Saved by the… Xander. Holy god. She’d almost forgotten… And how much more obsessed with her relationship trouble could she possibly be? How the heck could she have forgotten the sight of Xander and Cordy doing the monkey dance? With Spiderman boxer shorts involved!  
  
You know, here was a ready-made distraction from her woes. “Not yet, but we were just getting to that subject.” She raised a meaningful eyebrow and smiled. Sue her, she wasn’t _really_ going to tell Willow about his brand new sex life – not right here in the hall, anyway - but it was fun to watch him squirm.  
  
“Me?” Another helium-sucking deer was heard from. “Nothing to talk about. Just Xander. Boring, plain, completely unexciting Xander.”  
  
Great. Now Willow was going to have to wait until lunch to find out just what was going on with Angel. Nice timing, Xander.  
  
But you know, now that she thought about it, she was having a flashback. You know that feeling where there’s something – you don’t know what that something is, but you know there’s a something you don’t know? Willow had it right now - again. She hadn’t seen Xander acting this bizarre since back when he and…  
  
“Oh gosh! You and Cordelia! There’s totally something sneaky going on with you and Cordelia.” All right, maybe she was guessing, but since last time…  
  
“Ha! Something sneaky going on with me and Cordy? What makes you think…?”  
  
Just then a pair of arms wrapped around Xander – a pair of arms attached to a perfectly coiffed brunette in spiked heels who greeted him with a husky. “Hi.”  
  
Uh… yeah. Maybe that made her think. “So like I was saying… You and Cordelia, huh?”  
  
“Yes. Me and Xander.” With that, Cordelia glared daggers at Willow, which made sense, given recent history, and she totally accepted it, but then… then she glared at Buffy – which made no sense at all. “That’s not a problem for anyone, is it? Not that I care.”  
  
If it _had_ been a problem, it wouldn’t have been after Willow saw the expression on Xander’s face. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him this happy. Then he turned to Cordelia and asked softly, “You okay?”  
  
Okay… Cordelia had the sappiest smile _ever_ on her face. “Oh yeah.”  
  
Oh god. She had a feeling there was definitely still something she didn’t know – and that maybe she really didn’t want to. Not without caffeine, anyway.  
  
“So, Buffy and I were headed to the library. Nice talking to you.” With that, she grabbed her friend by the arm and dragged her away – well, as much as she could be said to be dragging a Slayer who was actually moving faster than she was.  
  
In a trice, they were in the library – alone. “Boy, that’s sure a surprise, isn’t it? I mean, I’m thrilled and everything and since Oz took me back it’s only fair that…” Why wasn’t Buffy smiling – or even looking at her? Okay, there was something going on.  
  
Buffy hated keeping secrets from Willow and now that Xander and Cordy were public she just had to... “I saw them. Last night.”  
  
“When you were out with Angel?”  
  
“Uh… no. Kind of… “ This was so awkward. She couldn’t think of a tactful way to put it, so she just blurted it out. “I was in Lover’s Lane doing patrol and I saw her car and I thought she was with someone else so I opened the door and…”  
  
Willow’s eyes were so wide Buffy could actually see the roundness of her eyeballs. Bet her own looked the same last night. “You saw them kissing… right?”  
  
“Uh… kissing was probably involved.” Suddenly it occurred to her… “You’re not too freaked out, are you? I mean, you and Oz are back together and…”  
  
Thank heavens Willow hastened to reassure her. “Oh no. I mean… I think it’s great, it’s just… Me and Oz haven’t yet and it’s just… Xander, you know? I guess I have to get used to it.”  
  
Buffy pulled Willow into a hug. She got it. She really did. “It’ll happen, Will. Waiting… it gets a bad rap.” She thought about her birthday. How it had been the most wonderful birthday ever… until it wasn’t. “Waiting is possibly the most underrated activity ever.”  
  
“Yeah.” Willow squeezed her tightly before letting go and stepping back. Looked like she got it, too.  
  
“Besides. This way you can take him shopping first.”  
  
“Shopping? Oh you mean like for…” Willow’s voice became a stage whisper as she finished with “condoms?”  
  
“Those are of the good, but I was thinking more about boxers.”  
  
“Why? I’m pretty sure Oz kinda prefers to do that on his own.”  
  
“All right, but make sure he shops in the grown-up’s section, okay?”  
  
Willow’s brow furrowed, practically begging for answers to allow it to relax and Buffy just couldn’t hold back. “I have two words for you. Spider. Man.”  
  
It took a moment, but Willow figured it out… and dissolved into giggles, as did Buffy. “He wasn’t… was he?”  
  
Buffy nodded vigorously. “’Fraid so, Will. The spirit was willing, but the wardrobe was weak.”  
  
“Oh god.” But after a moment, Willow’s expression turned serious and Buffy knew that, while she’d gotten a short break, there was no getting out of… “You didn’t finish telling me about what happened with Angel.”  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	12. Chapter 11

Broken Arrow (Chapter 11)  
  
  
  
Willow sat, quiet and reflective, by herself in the library. Buffy’s relationship with Angel was in real trouble and her heart ached for her best friend. How could this have even happened? She’d always been so sure that those two were forever. What was going on with him? Angel was acting like such a… guy.  
  
But she was also more than a little upset with Angel for another reason too. Why did he have to go and tell Buffy about the Grank venom-fear-thing? No, she hadn’t exactly sworn him to secrecy, but it had clearly been implied. He wasn’t a very good friend.   
  
Though… now that she thought about it, maybe his betrayal of  _her_  was actually good news for Buffy. After all, it sort of implied that Buffy came first, right? So okay, maybe Buffy was wrong and she and Angel weren’t over.   
  
How the heck was Buffy supposed to know, though? Because from what she’d told Willow, Angel wasn’t exactly talking to her these days.  
  
Oh gosh! She had an idea! A great idea! Who was the one person it seemed like Angel  _was_ chatting with these days? Willow. So, even though she wasn’t ever going to confide in him ever again, she’d just conceal her irritation, act like everything was hunky-dory, and inveigle some information from him about just what he was feeling toward Buffy.  
  
Willow to the rescue! Now all she had to do was wait for Angel to show up wanting to talk, which would be… Okay, she had no idea when that might be. She sighed heavily. Buffy saved the world. A lot. Didn’t she deserve a best friend who could at least save the day? A little?  
  
But what could she do? She couldn’t go see Angel after school; she had promised to help Giles. Patrol was out. After all, the last thing she wanted was for Buffy to find out what she was doing. What if what she learned was bad news? There was no way she’d share that with her best friend.   
  
Which left Buffy trapped in the middle of two very happy couples – all day, every day – until Willow could sneak a chat with Angel or until he wised up and…  
  
It was official. Willow was not going to save the day… a day which now contained nothing except her most boring classes  
  
Oh.  
  
You know, not only were those classes boring, but they were really easy. Theoretically, she could totally miss them without… Oh god. Could she do what she was thinking? Her heart rate picked up and her palms started to sweat. She couldn’t…  
  
Then a vision of Buffy’s pain-filled eyes flashed before hers.  
  
She was going to do this, because she  _had_  to do this. She was going to do this and be back before anyone – especially Buffy and Giles-type anyones – knew any better. Willow Rosenberg, the girl with perfect attendance and a spotless disciplinary record was going to pick up her bookbag and march – okay sneak – right out of this school and go straight to the mansion to find out once and for all if Buffy still had a boyfriend.   
  
That’s exactly what she did – well, except for the part where she got caught on the quad and lied to a teacher and stammered her way through a completely lame and unbelievable excuse about why she was leaving school grounds when it wasn't even lunch… which she totally got away with. Come to think of it, that was pretty unfair. When Buffy tried stuff like that she did it way more credibly and it never worked. Boy, there was one set of rules for her and another for practically everyone else. The socialist-leaning side of Willow found that morally reprehensible.  
  
But it was darn convenient, so for now she would let it go. The greater good, right? After all, situational ethics were still ethics… weren’t they?  
  
With a sigh, she adjusted her bookbag over her shoulder and headed straight for the scene of the upcoming battle of wits.  
  
So now, here she was: Angel’s house. You know, this place was just as creepy in the middle of the day. Probably why Angelus chose it, huh? But why did Angel stay here? It had to have like a ton of bad memories. This was where Buffy had had to run him through with the sword and send him to Hell. Why would anyone still live in a place where that had happened to them?  
  
Boy, Angel really  _was_  into the whole self-punishment thing, huh?  
  
Okay, that took her to a really queasy place.   
  
She walked into the big front room. This was one ponderous house. Had any stonemasons died building it?   
  
Wow. That was morbid, although to be fair, this place sort of inspired that kind of thought. “Angel?” Of course, just as she called his name, she remembered: Vampire. Duh! This was his middle-of-the-night. He was probably sleeping, just like she would be at 3 AM… unless there was an emergency, or she was with Oz, or there was something interesting on the internet, or… Yeah, she didn’t sleep much. But Angel might and she was being really, really rude.  
  
Angel had been in his room, sitting in a chair, reading Sartre, when he heard someone enter his house. For a moment, his hackles had been raised, alert for danger, but then a soft voice had called his name.  
  
It was Willow. She had come here to see him. For a moment, he was happy, but then… He leapt out of his chair and all but raced down the stairs. Had something happened? Was she in trouble?  
  
There she was, standing in the middle of the large front room, looking very small and uncertain. Not hurt though, nor did she seem particularly anxious. “Willow. Nice of you to drop by.” No, he wasn’t going to do anything boorish like ask why she was there. Because now that he thought about it, he realized – she was feeling drawn to him the same way he was drawn to her. Their friendship was inevitable; he only wondered why it was so long in the making. After all, they had so much in common. He hadn’t even had to explain who William Burroughs was.  
  
“I… umm… Hi. I guess you’re wondering what I’m doing here, huh? “  
  
“You’re always welcome here.” He smiled and hoped she saw how sincere he was.  
  
Did she? Who could tell? Because she was still just standing there.  
  
Oh god. What was she supposed to say now? Because she’d been so caught up in patting herself on the back for coming up with such a great plan that she hadn’t actually bothered to come up with many of the key details: an excuse for visiting Angel, for instance. Great, Willow. Explain again why you  _shouldn’t_  be relegated to the sidelines like…  
  
And now she felt queasy because it only now just occurred to her that she was a hypocrite and a terrible person, as well as the worst friend ever – because she hadn’t batted an eyelash when the decision had been made to leave Xander out of the battle against The Sisterhood of Jhe ‘for his own good.’   
  
Why did she have to have these thoughts now? This was really not the time, or the place, or the… anything. But with Xander on the brain, of course she ended up saying…   
  
“Xander and Cordelia got back together.”   
  
Huh? Angel was still happy to see her, of course, but why did she think this was information so important that it needed to be conveyed with such urgency in the middle of her school day? He barely gave a damn whether Xander lived or died and he couldn’t say he felt any more deeply about Cordelia. So why was Willow really here?  
  
Just then it occurred to him – there she was, standing there, stammering, fidgeting, clearly desperate to see him but making the most bizarre excuse for it…  
  
She felt more for him than friendship.  
  
How did he feel about that?  
  
He had to admit he was drawn to her. Last night in the library had been… delightful. They had talked, laughed … When was the last time Angel had laughed? Her warmth and sweetness were intoxicating and, while she wasn’t his usual type, she wasn’t hard on the eye, either. He could still recall the way her body had felt against his the night he’d lost his soul, the way she’d smelled of innocence and fear…  
  
The memory was arousing him.  
  
That was when he saw it: She wasn’t the only one. He, too, was seeing them as more than just friends.  
  
But what about Buffy? Surely, though, Buffy already knew that their relationship was over. The emptiness he’d been feeling was too extreme to be one-sided. They’d been hanging onto a love that was less alive than he was for a long time and they were both aware of that. No, he couldn’t – and wouldn’t – flaunt a new relationship in her face, but in time…  
  
Oz, however, might prove a trickier issue. Willow was so soft-hearted and anything she saw as betrayal would be painful for her. She was still tearing herself to pieces over those silly kisses with Xander. No wonder she was having trouble dealing with powerful feelings drawing her away from her brief spell of puppy love, no wonder that she was clearly afraid to act on them.  
  
It was up to Angel, then, to take the lead, to show her how he felt so she could admit to the same, and to help her through the difficult tasks which would lie ahead.  
  
With that, and without a single word, he went to Willow, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her.  
  
  
  
To be continued...

 


	13. Chapter 12

Broken Arrow (Chapter 12)  
  
  
  
Okay. Clearly she had somehow fallen asleep in the library and was having the wackiest and most disturbing dream ever, because there was no way that she was standing here in Angel’s house… kissing Angel! Kissing Angel! All right, he was the one doing all the work, but still… it was actually sort of good, in a weird and surreal kind of way.   
  
Which meant that of course this had to be a dream. It for sure was a dream – and she was going to prove it! Reaching down, she pinched herself and…  
  
Everything was exactly the same. This wasn’t a dream at all.  
  
No! This was so not really happening! This could  _not_  be happening! This was worse than The Fluke! This was The Fluke to the power of infinity!  
  
Yes, there was at least the tiny mitigating factor that this time she wasn’t exactly an active or willing participant, but somehow she didn’t think Buffy would take that – or the fact that she was human – into consideration before staking her.   
  
Willow would have a hard time blaming her.   
  
This was…. okay, not bad in the sense that Angel wasn’t a really very skillful kisser, but definitely bad in the sense of BAD! Bad, bad, bad!   
  
With a valiant effort at connecting her brain to her body, Willow at last wedged her arms between the two of them and pushed.  
  
What do you know? It worked! It worked and they weren’t kissing anymore. So now what she was supposed to do?  
  
Angel stood perplexed and staring at the girl who had, just seconds ago, been in his arms. Kissing her had been transcendent and he was sure the feeling had been mutual. This was what she wanted, what they both wanted, so why was she resisting him? “What’s wrong?”  
  
She was staring at him as if he were insane. Nothing was making any sense. “Why did you kiss me?”  
  
What? But then he thought about it and realized: She was so insecure, so completely blind to her own allure and worth. It had probably never occurred to her that he could feel the same way for her that she did for him. “You’re so beautiful.” He reached for her again… and she backed away.  
  
At this point, he was becoming angry. “Willow, I know this is new for you, for both of us, but you have to realize… It’s okay. Buffy knows we’re over. She has to know. There’s been nothing there for…” He paused, wondering just when the void had become real. “A long time.”  
  
She was still looking at him as if she couldn't comprehend what he was saying, but he kept going. “I understand, believe me. I know how hard it’s going to be for you to tell Oz. But he has to see… it’s not as if you two haven’t had problems. He knows he’s not the one for you. He’ll accept this. He will.”  
  
Huh? Wha… What in the heck was he saying? “This… I don’t understand. I… We’re friends, Angel, and yeah, okay, I gave you back your soul, but Buffy… she loves you. You guys are soulmates. I know there’s the curse and believe me, I’m doing everything I can to find a way to fix it…” Suddenly a light bulb went on. She could almost feel it over her head just like in the old cartoons. “Oh god. I get it. I so get it.” She glared at him, tears forming in her eyes. “This is all because of what happened with me and Xander! You think I’m a slut! You think I’ll be your little... thing on the side who won’t make you perfectly happy so you don’t have to be all frustrated because you and Buffy can’t…” Her voice was choked with sobs, but she managed to croak out a final, “I hate you!” before racing from the mansion.  
  
It was sunny outside, but Willow didn’t care. This was the darkest, most horrible day ever. Why had she cut school? She should have known better. Because now she knew stuff, important stuff, stuff Buffy probably – scratch that,  _definitely_  – should know, but there was no way Willow could tell her. There was no way for “Hey, I’m sorry, but you’re in love with a skanky man-whore who put the moves on me because he’s horny and can’t have sex with you without losing his soul” to be accepted or result in anything but Willow losing the best and only female friend she’d ever had, the anchor in her life.  
  
But you know what the worst part was? The very worst and most horrible part?   
  
She’d sort of liked it. Oh, not the part where it was Angel – she’d never thought of him that way and she’d never, ever put the moves on Buffy’s man, recent Xander-fluking notwithstanding – but the part where he actually had some skill. Yeah, that had been nice. Nice in a horrible, shame-spiraling way, but nice. Of course, come to think of it, that didn’t actually mean anything, did it? It only made sense that he’d be good at kissing seeing as how he’d had like hundreds of years to practice. In a hundred years, Oz would be… well okay, Oz would be dead, and so would she, but…  
  
What was her point again?   
  
No clue. Thinking was not really her strong suit right now. All she knew was that there was no way she could possibly face Buffy right now.  
  
So, instead of going back to school, Willow went home.  
  
Angel was pacing the stone floor, feeling frustrated, angry, and… frustrated. Yes, all right, he’d thought about being frustrated twice, but he was very, very frustrated. A few short minutes ago, he’d been kissing Willow, feeling her respond… and yes, she  _had_  responded, damn it, but then, unaccountably, she’d pushed him away, feigned total disinterest and gone on a tirade about…  
  
Oh.  
  
Oh!  
  
Now he got it and he felt absolutely horrible for the rage he’d just been experiencing.   
  
The curse. Of course she assumed he remained ever vigilant. Of course she assumed that he … But the truth was that he hadn’t thought about the clause in his curse for a moment. Now that he did… He’d put them both in terrible danger, hadn’t he? Because if anyone could make him perfectly happy, it was Willow. Hell, while he’d been kissing her, he could swear he felt as euphoric as ever he did making love to Buffy.  
  
No! Was it going to happen? Was he going to lose his soul? What had he done?  
  
He raced for his room, looking for chains, hoping he could restrain himself before…   
  
They were gone. No! What would happen when…?  
  
He sat on the edge of his bed, and he waited, silently praying that somehow Willow would be safe when all hell broke loose even as he knew she’d be his demon’s first target, bracing himself for the agony of losing his hold on humanity.  
  
Minutes passed. Then more minutes.  
  
The pain never came.  
  
Huh.  
  
Angel smiled. This had to mean something. This had to mean something wonderful. Wait until he told Willow, explained to her…  
  
They could be together, he and Willow, and they would be!   
  
Where Buffy’s love had nearly destroyed them both, Willow’s love… it would save him.   
  
Now all he had to do was make her see.  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	14. Chapter 13

Broken Arrow (Chapter 13)  
  
  
  
This was officially the very worst day of Willow’s life. Even worse than when she and Xander had been kidnapped and Oz and Cordelia had… Oh god! What  _about_  Oz? Would he be able to tell? Would he somehow know that Angel had kissed her? Should she be honest and aboveboard and honourable and tell him? Would he believe her if she told him it was so completely not her fault this time?   
  
Given her track record, she was pretty sure the answer to that was a resounding ‘NO’ but did that mean she shouldn’t…?  
  
This was exactly the kind of thing she needed to talk about with Buffy. Buffy was her very best friend – totally trustworthy, wise, and honest and…   
  
…In love with Angel. Madly, hopelessly, forever and eternally in love with Angel. It would  _destroy_ her if she knew that Angel had even smiled at Willow, let alone kissed her.  
  
Then there were the things he’d said – about him and Buffy being over. How could he say that Buffy knew when she so totally did not know anything of the kind?  
  
Everything was so confusing, but one thing wasn’t: There was no way she could ever,  _ever_  tell Buffy about any of the stuff that had happened at the mansion today.  
  
Which left Willow without a single person she could go to for guidance and support – two things she badly needed right now.  
  
She lay down on her bed and began to cry.  
  
  
  
  
The shattering of a cut glass tumbler as it made contact with a wall punctuated Ethan Rayne’s rage. He’d pored through every one of the books he possessed and not one could explain why Angel hadn’t thrown Willow onto a table and mercilessly robbed her of her chastity. Not a word about demons being able to resist the call of…  
  
Oh bugger!  
  
Had he said the spell correctly? Invoked the right gods? His memory was horribly foggy – curse that blasted brandy! – and he couldn’t be sure… he couldn’t have been foolish enough to invoke Eros, could he?   
  
No, no, of course not. The spell was the one for obsessive lust, obliterating reason and affection, rendering its victim helpless to control his passions. He could never have consumed enough alcohol to dull his  _own_  reason so completely as to call on a god whose feelings had been so corrupted by tenderness  
  
He sighed. It had to be that soul. It wasn’t as if any of the mages and wizards and sages who’d written the books had ever encountered a vampire with a soul, after all. How could he possibly have expected them to know what the pitfalls inherent in casting a spell, however inadvertently, on a demon in that unfortunate state might be.  
  
For a moment he pondered… did he himself have a soul anymore? If he did, it certainly didn’t bedevil him the way Angel’s did.  
  
Or Rupert’s, for that matter.  
  
Another sigh, heavier and more despondent this time. Speaking of beings who’d been brought down by cherishing a  _tendre_  for someone… Ethan, Ethan, however had this happened? How had a series of delightful shags with a fellow devotee of the dark arts transformed into what was almost as sickening as… no! Not the Slayer’s schoolgirl mooning! Never that! He had far too much dignity and panache for cow eyes and swooning, thank Chaos. Still, it was beneath him.  
  
Rather the position he wished Rupert was in right now, frankly.  
  
Why couldn’t that vampire just do what should come naturally? How much time…?  
  
Hmmm… Perhaps that was the answer. Angel, after all, hadn’t  _really_  been afforded much – what was that American expression? – oh yes, ‘quality time’ with the object of his desires. There had always been the distraction of outsiders, even if unconscious. It could be that sufficient time alone together could stimulate Angel to ‘rise’ to the occasion, as it were, and then the deed would be done.  
  
Yes! Yes! That was the ticket. All that needed to be done was to arrange circumstances to afford the pair some solitude – enforced sufficiently to keep the others at bay for enough time and then… then the tragically unwary damsel would be ruthlessly despoiled, Angelus would appear, Ethan would ride to the rescue, and a grateful and admiring Rupert would be back where he belonged. Oh, sadly, poor Miss Rosenberg would likely be rather damaged, but that couldn’t be helped. At least she’d be exceeded in misery by her chum, Buffy Summers. Now that was something Ethan would greatly enjoy.  
  
How to arrange the business… Humming as he retrieved a broom and dustpan to dispose of the broken glass still threatening danger on the floor, he contemplated the logistics of his next move.  
  
You know, this all might have worked out for the best after all. Planning was proving to be quite enjoyable.  
  
  
  
  
Buffy was training with Wesley and Faith, Xander was off doing heaven only knew what with Cordelia, and the library was all but empty.  
  
Willow wasn’t here.  
  
This was completely unlike her and Giles had to admit to being somewhat unnerved. She had given her word that she would assist him in setting the occult volumes to rights this afternoon and yet she was nowhere to be seen. What’s more, Buffy informed him that Willow had not even attended her last class.   
  
What could have happened? Surely if there’d been a family emergency or such, she would have informed them, and she'd said nothing about anything of the kind, so he told himself not to read too much into this. There had to be some sort of innocent explanation, possibly an unexpected flare of teenage thoughtlessness.  
  
Yes, that had to be it, he decided, even as a sense of foreboding he’d been feeling since the night she was shot flared up and refused to go away.  
  
“Willow here?” Oz was as laconic as ever, but Giles thought he detected a note of concern in the boy’s monotone. That tore it. Something was indeed wrong.  
  
“I’m afraid no one has seen her,” he replied, deciding not to try to allay any fears Oz might have. It would do the boy no harm to worry, especially if he was right and there was indeed something about which it would be worthwhile to worry.   
  
“Huh.” Casual observers would never have perceived anything but calm – even disinterest – but Giles had come to know Oz well enough to see that he was actually very concerned, an impression quickly confirmed by his next words. “Think I’ll drive by her house.”  
  
“I think that’s a fine idea.” It was, and Giles wished he’d thought of it himself. “Do let her know that I… “ But before he could finish his sentence, Oz was gone. Well, that was probably for the best. The sooner someone found out what was wrong, the better. More than likely, it was just some bit of teenage nonsense. Perhaps Cordelia had been cruel to her again and she was taking refuge in ice cream and pop music.  
  
But try as he might, that hypothesis refused to take hold. No, he was sadly certain that something was badly amiss – something real. He only wished he had a single solitary clue as to what it might be.  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	15. Chapter 14

Broken Arrow (Chapter 14)  
  
  
  
Anger at Angel and self-loathing were battling for dominance in Willow’s psyche when a knock at the door stopped the battle cold. The cadence was familiar. Very, very familiar. Oh no! Oz was here! Here! As in at her house right this minute!  
  
Why hadn’t it occurred to her that this could happen? That her absence from school and the library would not go unnoticed? She was never not where she was supposed to be, except now she wasn’t and so of course people – Oz people especially – would be worried.  
  
What was she going to do?  
  
“Just a second!” she yelled as she raced into the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. Please let him not be able to tell she’d been crying.  
  
Praying to whoever was listening all the while, she went to the front door. “Hi, Oz,” she caroled brightly as he walked in.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
His monotone wasn’t quite as flat as usual and she could tell he was feeling stuff. Great. Now she felt guiltier than ever. She amped up the wattage on her smile and answered, “Yeah. Of course. I’m fine.”  
  
Guess her prayers had gone to voicemail because the first thing he did was give her a long look and say, “You’ve been crying.”  
  
“No, no! I haven’t. Honest. It’s just allergies.”  
  
He raised an eyebrow. Oh god. He actually raised an eyebrow. He didn’t believe her at all, did he?  
  
“It’s nothing,” she insisted.   
  
No, he still wasn’t buying it. Guess the fact that she was here instead of meeting him at school was going to be hard to explain in a way that didn’t involve something being wrong.  
  
“Kinda thought you’d be in the library.”  
  
Oh god. That meant he’d been there and that Giles was also wondering what was going on.  
  
“Sometimes I like to be spontaneous, you know? Do the unexpected thing.” Did that sound as completely implausible as she thought? Judging by the latest raise of Oz’s eyebrow, she was very much afraid the answer to that question was completely and utterly of the yes. “I do,” she insisted.  
  
His brow furrowed… but then his eyes narrowed and she became very nervous.  
  
Turned out there was good reason for that. “Is this about Xander? About him getting back together with Cordelia?”  
  
No! No! Oh no!   
  
Was this punishment for cutting class? Because she had had all the best intentions. Honest! It had all been for Buffy.   
  
It seemed the universe didn’t think that was a good enough excuse though, because on top of everything else – like the creepy Angel pass – now the boy she loved thought she was still pining for Xander. What was she going to do?  
  
“Why would you think that? I’m totally happy they got back together.” That was truth itself, but would he believe her?  
  
“Are you?”  
  
She’d thought this was the worst day of her life before, but now it was worse than ever. He didn’t trust her. Maybe he’d never trust her again. Well, that meant she was right about one thing: She could never tell him about Angel kissing her. But what was she supposed to tell him instead? How could she make Oz understand that he was the only one she thought about, the only one she loved?  
  
“It’s just…” In a split second, she made the decision.  
  
Yes, it involved betraying a confidence and betraying Xander.   
  
She was going to hell for this, she was sure, just please let it not be today.   
  
“Buffy caught him and Cordelia last night." Her cheeks flamed bright red and it was clear Oz could see what she meant, which was good because she so did not want to go into any more detail. "And hey, it’s great, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that they… and we haven’t… and…”  
  
You know, she was never going to understand the rules of the universe, because when she did a good deed by cutting school and going to the mansion to help Buffy, everything went wrong, but now she lied and told secrets she should never have repeated to save herself and… Oz was smiling at her. It was that sweet half-smile that made the whole world seem like it was reduced to just the two of them. She really loved that smile.  
  
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “We will. When we’re ready, we will.”  
  
Deciding not to worry about the way the universe ran, she smiled back at her boyfriend. “My parents are out of town again. Want to watch a movie or something?”  
  
“Sounds good. Better let Giles know you’re okay first, though.”  
  
With a nod, she headed for the phone. Now that she’d made things right with Oz, she could handle anything.  
  
  
  
  
  
“It’s official,” Buffy sighed as she sat down heavily at one of the library tables. “Wesley is completely useless. There were zombies, Giles! Zombies! It’s daytime, I am totally supposed to be off-duty, and there were zombies. But did The British Stooge help at all? No. All he did was scream like… I’d say a girl, but as a girl who doesn’t scream and a feminist, I need to object to stereotypes. Besides, Wesley doesn’t deserve a metaphor. He wouldn’t even help us drag them into the boiler room once we’d killed them! It’s a good thing that there weren’t any civilians around or there’d have been some serious strain put on the Sunnydale denial skills.”  
  
She sighed again. It had been an annoying day. Sure, the zombies had been clumsy and stupid and not all that hard to kill, but it was the principle of the thing. Of course, things hadn’t exactly been cheery before either, especially not that talk with… She looked around and noticed something – something that might be important. “Where’s Willow?”  
  
Giles was wondering the same thing when the phone rang. Had Oz found her? He hurried to the phone and answered it. “Willow. I’m glad… that is, it’s good of you to call. I thought. Ah, I see. Well then, you’re quite right. I hope you feel better by morning. We’ll see you in school tomorrow.” He hung up and turned to Buffy. “She seems to have eaten something which disagreed with her, so she went home.” It was a perfectly plausible explanation and one which should have eased his mind.  
  
It did at least seem to ease Buffy’s, because she shook her head ruefully and said, “That cafeteria food is going to kill someone someday. Are we absolutely sure the lunch lady isn’t a demon?”  
  
Giles smiled wanly at her raillery, but inside… No, he didn’t feel convinced at all. There was no reason he could think of for Willow to lie, but all the same, he didn’t believe her story. The foreboding he’d felt for some time was growing in intensity.  
  
Something terrible was in the offing and he was powerless to stop it.  
  
Buffy sat in her chair, acting as if all was well, but inside she felt... She wasn’t buying the story. Willow never ate cafeteria food and she was pretty sure the stuff she brought from home was blameless, so that left only one possibility.  
  
Willow was lying.  
  
But why? Why? It’s not as if she was fluking anymore. So why would she make up some story? Had she finally had enough of helping Giles catalogue books or something? Could that even _happen_  to Willow?   
  
No, Willow was Old Reliable. She’d never lie just to get out of helping someone do something boring.   
  
Still, that left a puzzle. Buffy hated puzzles. All that hard work and all those hours of frustration and what you ended up with was a stupid picture of a covered bridge.  
  
Focus, Buffy. Because Willow was lying for some reason that might be serious.  
  
Now all Buffy had to do was figure out what that reason was.  
  
It better not involve a covered bridge.  
  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	16. Chapter 15

Broken Arrow (Chapter 15)  
  
  
  
It was dark now and even though she was used to being the only one at home, Willow felt oddly alone. Oz had left – rehearsal with the Dingoes – and her lie about food poisoning had pretty much trapped her in her house.  
  
Just her and her thoughts.  
  
Some of which were good, that was for sure. There had been Oz-kissage and it had been nice – better than nice – and even if he didn’t have the technical expertise of a certain creepy vampire, it was more than compensated for by the fact that he was Oz and they loved each other.   
  
But now he was gone, and the thoughts that kept pushing all the nice smoochy-memories to the background were the thoughts about Angel.  
  
Those thoughts hurt; they hurt a  _lot_.  
  
Somehow amidst all the tumult and turmoil and self-hatred she’d gone through after the whole ‘getting caught smooching Xander after being kidnapped by Spike’ thing, she’d never actually considered what Angel felt about what she’d done. Honestly, it had never occurred to her that he even gave her a second thought, let alone had any opinion of her character one way or the other. Finding out that not only did he think about her but that he thought she was a cheap tramp who’d have meaningless sex with her best friend’s boyfriend was a cruel and upsetting shock.   
  
How could he see her that way? She hadn’t had sex with Xander, after all. It had totally stopped at kissing – though admittedly that had been bad enough. Still, that was nowhere near sufficient foundation to think of her as being easy.  
  
She could feel herself spiraling dangerously near tears as humiliation and frustration took hold again. So emotional was she becoming that when a knock sounded at the door, it never occurred to her that it could be anyone but Oz, returning after a cancelled rehearsal to rescue her from her depression. Gosh, the universe was intent on making it up to her, huh? So she quickly pulled herself together as she called out, “Come in,” and managed a very credible smile.  
  
Then the door opened.  
  
Oh no.  
  
Angel had been busily thinking of a strategy to persuade Willow to permit him entry into her home the whole way here. He’d been sure it would take more than a bit of entreaty, so he was pleasantly surprised when she simply invited him inside. Had she thought better of her earlier reaction to his embrace?  
  
“Willow.” She’d been smiling when he entered, but her expression changed dramatically in an instant. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I thought you were Oz.”  
  
What? It took all his willpower to keep his true face from emerging. Especially when her next words were, “I don’t know why you’re here, but I think you should leave.”  
  
“I understand why you’re upset. That’s why I came here to explain.”  
  
“Explain what? That you think I’m a ho?”  
  
A what? It took him a moment to understand her slang, but luckily he’d paid at least some attention to Buffy’s stream-of-consciousness chatter, “I don’t think you’re anything of the kind.”   
  
“Really? So that’s why you…”  
  
“I wasn’t thinking about the curse,” he interrupted. “All I could think about was how much I wanted to kiss you.”  
  
Come to think of it, that was all that was on his mind right now – the desire, no the  _need_ , to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she forgot there’d ever been any other man to hold her. No Oz, no Xander, just Angel. Stepping toward her, he was about to do just that when…  
  
Buffy had thought about knocking, but this was Willow’s house; she never knocked. Besides, if she was going to get the truth out of her best friend, catching her as off-guard as possible was the best strategy. Willow wasn’t a good liar under the best of circumstances – Food poisoning? Really? – without any time to prepare, she was pathetic.   
  
“Willow, I… Angel?” What was he doing here? And why did Willow look like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi? Because this wasn’t her ‘uh oh, I’ve been caught in a lie’ face.  
  
“Buffy.” Worse, why did Angel look like she was the last person in the world he wanted to see?  
  
First things first. Focusing on Willow, she asked, “How are you feeling? Giles said the cafeteria lady made an attempt on your life.” Bingo.  _Now_  she had ‘uh oh’ face. Somehow, though, it wasn’t comforting because there were  _two_  puzzles instead of one.   
  
Then she looked at Angel’s face again.   
  
Scratch that two and make it a three.   
  
Odds were good that at least one of them was a covered bridge.  
  
And again: Focus, Buffy. “Looks like you’re feeling better.” Oooh. Guilt face. Yup. Now she was dead certain she’d caught Willow in a lie. Now she just had to find out…  
  
“I wanted to spend some time with Oz before his Dingoes rehearsal. What with it being his time of the month and all the apocalypse-y stuff going on, we haven’t had much ‘us’ time.”  
  
Wow. Willow was sort of impressed with herself. Had she ever lied this well in her life?   
  
Of course she’d forgotten… “But Giles said that Oz was looking for you in the library.” Oh god. She’d totally forgotten about that. Man, lying was hard. If there’d been a lying section on the SAT, she’d never have been accepted to any college anywhere. Buffy even had that whole ‘eyes-narrowed’ thing going.   
  
But you know what? There’d been a time when she couldn’t even float a pencil, too, and look at her now. Practice made perfect. “I didn’t actually discuss it with him first. I'm not all that great at being spontaneous and surreptitious.” She shrugged and looked abashed for good measure, figuring that added verisimilitude to her story. “But it worked out because he found me and we had ‘us’ time, so… Yeah.” She shrugged again. “I guess I kind of need to make it up to Giles, huh?”  
  
“I won’t give you away. It’s about time you did sneaky, irresponsible things like the rest of us. You were so good that it was giving me a bad name.” Buffy grinned and hugged her and somehow the flush of victory at having managed a credible lie was swallowed up by guilt. In fact, Willow felt worse than she ever had in her whole life. Especially when Buffy turned to the glowering, grim, unwelcome home invader and asked, “So, what brings you here?”  
  
“I wanted to talk to Willow.”  
  
One glance at the sad, uncertain look on her best friend’s face and Willow was determined to use her new lying mojo to try to fix things. “He wanted some advice on how to make things up to you.” Okay, if looks could kill, the one on Angel’s face would at least be costing her health insurance company a lot of money, but who cared? She kept going. “I’m sorry, Angel. But you know I can’t keep secrets from Buffy. I’m like the worst liar in the world.” Yes, that last bit caused her a twinge, but then she turned to Buffy again, seeing all that love for Angel in her best friend’s eyes and she was more determined than ever to repair what she’d accidentally messed up. Because if she got this right, Angel for sure would be all about Buffy again, just the way he was supposed to be. “He’s been going through stuff, but he felt really bad and he wanted to know the best way to apologize and well… I sort of thought he should take you out tonight. You know, dinner, movie, all that romantic stuff.”  
  
Fixing her eyes on Angel and with all the force of will she could muster, she finished with, “And he said he thought that sounded perfect.”  
  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	17. Chapter 16

Broken Arrow (Chapter 16)  
  
  
  
An Italian restaurant? This was… unexpected. Buffy had never really thought about it before, but she guessed she’d just assumed that vampires really were repelled by garlic. Of course, now that she thought about it, Giles had never advised her to carry a clove of it with her or anything.  
  
So okay, here they were, at a really pretty nice Italian place called Dino’s that she’d never even heard of before, eating – or at least  _she_  was eating – expensive food that wasn’t pizza or spaghetti or even lasagna. There were candles on the tables and the lights were low. Musicians tucked away in an alcove were playing something slow and completely unfamiliar with horns and a stand-up bass that Angel said was called ‘cool jazz’ – whatever that was. This should have been very, very romantic, even if the music wasn’t exactly Buffy’s idea of good.  
  
So why did she feel like she was at a funeral? A fancy, catered funeral, but still – definitely not feeling the love.  
  
“This is delicious,” she offered, and it was. She’d always had a weird fondness for lamb. Now all she had to do was remember how Angel had pronounced carre’d’agnello all’aglio dolce e santoreggia so she could come back and order it again with her Mom.   
  
He still wasn’t speaking to her, though. Instead, he was looking everywhere but in her direction.   
  
“What’s wrong?” Hadn’t Willow said that he wanted to apologize? To make things up to her? Why was he still acting as if he could barely stand being near her? “Did I do something?”  
  
And then the whole world collapsed around her.  
  
“I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry, Buffy.” Before she could say a word or ask what he meant, Angel threw a wad of money on the table and left.  
  
She sat stunned, still holding her fork, feeling as if she had been hit by a bus. When she’d entered the restaurant, she’d thought this was going to be a new beginning. Instead, her feelings had been right on target. Her life was over.  
  
The musicians kept playing, the lights were still low, and the candles still burned.  
  
Yeah, this was a romantic dinner all right.  
  
Tears began to fall from Buffy’s eyes. Angel didn’t love her anymore. What was she going to do?  
  
  
  
Angel hurried out of the restaurant, relieved that Buffy wasn’t chasing after him. He’d been telling the truth to Willow after all: Buffy knew, just as he did, that their relationship had become a sham, a shrine to feelings neither of them had anymore.  
  
Of course, he knew Buffy, and he knew that letting go of the charade would be hard for her, but she’d get over it. He knew she had dozens of suitors at Sunnydale High and in no time one of them would turn her head and he’d be relegated to the back of her mind, along with that Hope boy and whoever that kid he’d seen her with back in Los Angeles was.  
  
Once upon a time, his ego would have been damaged by that, but now it made him happy. After all, it wasn’t as if he wanted Buffy to suffer – far from it. He wanted her to move on, just as he was doing, and the less pain she endured in the process, the better.  
  
Part of that was because he had no ill will toward her – even still cherished some fond memories – but admittedly part of it was because he knew that the less anguish her best friend experienced, the quicker Willow would give in and admit that she felt as deeply for him as he did for her. If only he could go to her right now and share the news, but he couldn’t. Buffy might be the Slayer, but she was also a teenage girl and when that was the fulcrum of her identity, she was as predictable as she never was in battle. Very soon, she’d be on her way back to Willow’s house.  
  
Shaking his head in frustration, he headed for home. He only hoped Buffy didn’t lay on the melodrama too thick. He needed Willow and his patience was wearing thin.  
  
  
  
Ethan was growing weary of waiting for an opportunity to set his plan into motion, so he’d decided that a bit of reconnaissance was in order. Perchance he’d be able to pick up some information he could use to further his ends. So here he was, cloaking spell again standing him in good stead, lurking like some penny dreadful villain in the shrubbery outside dear little Willow’s front room.  
  
If he’d doubted his standing with the gods of Chaos, he did so no longer. No more opportune moment for his sleuthing could he have possibly chosen. For Miss Rosenberg was not alone, nor were her windows tight shut – bless the hideously uncivilized California weather.  
  
And who might her companion be? Who was crying her eyes out even now? Why it was that guttersnipe charge of Rupert’s, wailing like the abandoned strumpet it seemed she was at long last. Ethan fought to keep from collapsing in gales of mirth. But he remembered the limits of the spell, thank hellfire. Besides, he didn’t want to miss a moment of Buffy Summers’ misery. Such a pity he hadn’t brought popcorn.  
  
  
  
“He just… walked out. He said he couldn’t do this anymore and then he said he was sorry and then he just left.”  
  
Willow was in shock… and her guilt was immeasurable. “I’m so sorry, Buffy, This is all my fault.” Which it was. If she hadn’t forced this whole scenario on Angel, maybe everything would have been okay.  
  
But Buffy clearly didn’t see it that way, or she forgave her, because the next thing she knew, she was caught in a Slayer-strength hug. “You didn’t know. I mean, it sure didn’t sound like he told you that he wanted to dump me.” Suddenly Buffy let go and locked eyes with her. “You  _didn’t_ know, did you?”  
  
“No, no. I swear. I had no idea. There’s no way I would have…”  
  
“I knew it.” And the hugging recommenced.  
  
Willow just wished she didn’t feel like she had told a big, horrible, evil lie. Because, yeah, okay, she hadn’t exactly thought Angel would break up with Buffy tonight or anything, but she knew he was acting like a jerk and she probably  _should_  have known something like this would happen.  
  
It was official, she was the worst friend…  
  
“Why doesn’t he love me anymore?” Buffy sobbed into her shoulder, interrupting Willow’s thoughts.  
  
Which was so completely of the good. Because the combination of her thoughts and Buffy’s gave Willow the answer – to both Buffy’s despair  _and_  to how to finally be the best friend Buffy deserved. She'd explain this and Buffy would feel better.  
  
“I don’t think he doesn’t love you anymore,” she said. “I think it’s the curse. I think it’s too hard for him to be around you, what with you guys not being able to… you know…”   
  
Buffy was looking at her now and she had sort of stopped crying, but she still looked so sad that Willow's heart hurt as much as ever. She had to say something more, something comforting, and what she said was, “I’m gonna fix this.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
What did she mean? Oh god. She knew what she meant and she knew she was about to promise something she totally shouldn’t, but she couldn’t stop herself. “I’m going to find a way to fix the Happiness Clause. I can do it. I know I can do it. And then you and Angel can be together.”  
  
That was a smile, wasn’t it? Oh, not a thousand watt Buffy-smile, but it was a smile, and it was on Buffy’s face, and there was more hugging and “I love you, Will.”  
  
This was great! Now all Willow had to do was keep her promise.  
  
No problem.  
  
Right?  
  
  
  
  
Ethan Rayne embarked on his walk home with a jaunty step and a smile on his lips. His mission had borne enough fruit for an orchard.   
  
Oh Miss Rosenberg, you do make things almost too easy. So you want to find a way to fix the curse on a demon’s soul, do you? Well, you’re about to hear of someone who can help. And if that information somehow leads you into a trap, never fear. Because Ethan Rayne is quite sure that a handsome, strapping vampire will be quite willing to come to your aid.  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	18. Chapter 17

Broken Arrow (Chapter 17)  
  
  
  
Willow had all but aced her SAT’s – yes, the 740 verbal still stung, but luckily her AP scores had more than compensated – yet somehow a totally simple thing like fixing some stupid clause in a curse was proving to be beyond her capabilities.  
  
She hadn’t felt this useless since she’d been tied to a stake by her own Mom, unable to even float a pencil… or talk her Mom out of lighting the pyre.  
  
No, she really didn’t need to think about that right now. Depressing thoughts were not conducive to successful research. What she needed was a can-do attitude. Because – hey! – she’d managed to restore Angel’s soul in the first place, right? That had to mean she was capable of attaching it more permanently.  
  
Yeah right. Great job so far. She was 0 for what seemed like at least 5,000 books and ancient scrolls at this point.  
  
Xander had once told her that duct tape could fix anything. Wasn’t there a magical equivalent? There had to be a magical equivalent. After all, she’d done a glamour on a zit instead of using benzoyl peroxide, so it just showed that magic…  
  
Okay, it probably didn’t show anything except that Willow was hopeless and desperate and willing to do anything to avoid admitting she was a total failure.  
  
Except she wasn’t a failure, not yet, she just… hadn’t succeeded so far, that was all.  
  
And she wasn’t going to succeed today – not here and now, anyway.  
  
With a heavy sigh, she got up from the table. Her eyes were crossing and her stomach had just growled and she had to put these books away so that, when Giles came back on Monday, he wouldn’t realize what she was doing. So with a feeling of futility and weariness she hadn’t had when she started, she set about righting the library’s stash of occult volumes.   
  
Especially the ones Giles always kept hidden where he thought she couldn’t find them.  
  
As she was leaving, she tried valiantly to shake herself back into optimism. Posture. Confident posture would help, right? So she straightened up, stood tall, and said, “I can do this.”  
  
There. That was telling… herself. She wasn’t a failure at all and there was still a chance.  
  
Just one question: Where did she go from here?  
  
  
  
It was a Saturday afternoon and Angel was trapped, cursing the daylight, in his mansion, unable to learn what had happened last night after he’d finally put an end to the hollow mockery that was his relationship with Buffy.  
  
He was certain, of course, that she’d gone straight to Willow’s house, but what had transpired when she got there? Did Willow finally realize that he’d been telling the truth and that they could be together?  
  
There was also the matter of his curse. He was all but convinced that it didn’t apply where Willow was concerned, but how could he be absolutely sure?  
  
Research; he needed to do research. But where? He couldn’t chance the school library, too much chance of being caught by Giles or Buffy. He had some volumes of his own, of course, but they were mainly prophecies and demon glossaries, hardly likely to contain the knowledge he needed.  
  
What was he going to do? Who could he reach out to for help?  
  
He considered doing Tai Chi for some focus, but memories of recently bringing Buffy into his practice rather spoiled it for him.   
  
With a heavy sigh, he sat down on the shockingly uncomfortable couch and looked around. Why hadn’t he noticed before just how depressing this place was? His furniture was ponderous and outdated, his library was filled with dark, serious books, and he had never bothered to get a TV. Worst of all, he didn’t even know how to turn on a computer. That last was something he really needed to rectify if he was going to pursue a relationship with Willow. She was as modern as he… wasn’t. At least until now.  
  
Perhaps, while he was waiting for nightfall and the chance to find answers to at least a few of his myriad questions, he could devote some time to thinking about the possibility of redecorating.   
  
And buying a computer.  
  
  
  
Willow had lied –  _lied_  – and Giles was still struggling to come to terms with the fact of it even as he also sought to elucidate the why.   
  
Food poisoning. Had she really expected him to believe her? Of course, given that, excluding her unfortunate dalliance with Xander, deception was not a common practice for her, he supposed he could hardly have expected her to come up with anything better. Still, he had to admit to nearly being insulted.  
  
But that was neither here nor there. The important issue was what could possibly have transpired which would cause her to abandon her responsibilities and then lie about the reason. No, he could not do as he fervently wished and chalk this up to late-blooming teenage thoughtlessness and rebellion.   
  
This was, after all, Willow. She simply wasn’t like that. No, there was a reason… and he doubted it was an innocuous one.  
  
His mind kept going back to the night she was shot. The arrow. The arrow that was supposedly free of any poison or toxin. The arrow that barely injured her, yet…  
  
She’d been rendered unconscious. How had they all been so complacent about that afterwards? So eager to believe that because she  _seemed_  perfectly fine, that she  _was_  perfectly fine.  
  
Silly, he realized, to even ask that question. Willow herself had ample reason to accept that as fact and so did everyone who cared about her, himself included. But he shouldn’t have. He should have been willing to endure Buffy’s scorn and everyone’s irritation and kept after answers.  
  
Well, he was back on the case now, and since he’d be keeping it to himself until his efforts had borne fruit, he would need to worry about no one’s scorn save his own. He only hoped it wasn’t too late.  
  
  
  
Americans! Their cupidity and avarice were astonishing. Ethan Rayne was wholly unused to having to do something as vulgar as use money to secure assistance, but… oh well, for the right cause, he could descend into the muck and mire of the religion of the merchant class. Still, he’d expected better from the proprietress of a magic shop. The impossible woman! She’d been entirely unresponsive to his very best flirtations. Imagine that! And had she cared a whit about the hints he’d dropped that he could offer magical assistance at a later date? Dear me, no. All she’d cared about were those grubby pieces of inky green and white paper he’d been forced to place in her hand.  
  
What could he do about it, though? Nothing. And at least where money was involved, Americans did have the delightful habit of actually rendering service, at least the first time, when one hinted that one might be a repeat customer at a future date. He knew he could count on the appallingly bourgeois shopkeeper to set up the desired meeting between the hapless Rosenberg damsel and that creation of Ethan’s own delightful ingenuity: the magical sage who could assist her in securing the soul of a vampire.  
  
His mind drifted back to memories of youthful acrobatics with Rupert. Hopefully training with that shrewish Slayer had kept the man limber. If not… it didn't matter. Ethan was quite sure he could work around it.   
  
Soon, soon, dear boy, you’ll be back where you belong.  
  
As for the others, well… sacrifices were always regrettable (all right, not really), but when they needed to be made…  
  
  
  
  
To be continued...


	19. Chapter 18

Broken Arrow (Chapter 18)  
  
  
  
Running a finger gingerly over the rather dusty furniture in the front room, Ethan suppressed a sneeze and sniffed haughtily, “I suppose it will do. Of course it will need to be cleaned.”  
  
“Do I look like a goddamn maid?” The landlord’s grating vulgarity made Ethan’s patrician skin crawl, but he had hardly expected to find anyone of superior breeding engaged in the crass work of managing property, now had he?  
  
Ethan drew himself up and stared right into the man’s beady eyes. “No, Mr. Muller. You look like a man with a score of vacant properties who is in no position to bargain with a prospective client. Now see about having someone come in and make this place presentable by tonight and I shall pay you the sum you are asking and a healthy bonus besides.”  
  
“How healthy?” Ah, that was the American spirit.  
  
Pulling out a few of those vulgar pieces of paper from his wallet, he displayed them before the landlord’s shiny little eyes. “Does that inspire a sense of cleanliness and order then?”  
  
Seconds later, the man was at the door, yelling to the occupant of a boxy American sedan of uncertain vintage. “Estelle! Get your ass in here!”  
  
Oh dear.   
  
“My wife,” Muller said, as if that explained everything, which Ethan supposed it did, really.  
  
A moment later, a short, rather sturdy peasant of a woman – Polish, if Ethan’s eye were to be trusted, which of course it was – got a crate of supplies out of the trunk and trudged up to the small bungalow. She said nothing, just plodded into the house and began wiping down furniture with a will. Her manner reminded Ethan with a pang of the sort of servant you just couldn’t get these days – one who did her job and wasn’t tiresomely chatty – and he wondered about hiring her to tend his own flat, but of course, since she was the landlord’s wife…  
  
That vulgarian would charge him exorbitant rates.  
  
So he contented himself with watching, maintaining a disinterested expression with some difficulty, as the woman completed a rather thorough, if cosmetic, cleaning process in less than half the time that his own maid took to do a vastly inferior job. There was no justice in this world. Hiding his approval of her efforts, he sighed dismissively, “That will suffice, I suppose,” before placing a distressingly munificent sum of money in Muller’s meaty paw. “I’ll be over in a day or so to sign the lease, but I trust what I gave you will do for the time being.”   
  
There was no argument and, after a few expected bits of dull conversation, the man and his wife left, unaware that – of course – Ethan would be nowhere near their office ever again. If all went as planned, he’d have no further use for this place very soon.   
  
He whistled a happy tune as he set up the magical wards he needed. Amazing how simple barrier and containment spells could be. This one – to allow entry but no exit to anyone save those accompanied by Ethan himself – was child’s play. Well, if the child in question was a Chaos Mage of matchless ability, anyway.  
  
Then, after adding a few flourishes of his own to the bedroom for atmosphere's sake, and with the spring in his step that always came with the knowledge of imminent chaos, he headed home to wait for a call from the shopkeeper at The Magic Box. After that… well, a bit later, he’d see that Angel discovered little Willow’s plight and later still, he’d hasten, cover story at the ready, to helpfully inform the merry band of moronic do-gooders headed by… oh Rupert. If you only knew how soon your life was going to be so very much more exciting.  
  
  
  
How hadn’t this occurred to her until now? The lady who owned the Magic Box had always been really helpful before and she never, ever wondered about why Willow wanted weird stuff or asked bizarre questions. That made her absolutely the best person to go to for advice about fixing Angel’s pesky, removable soul.   
  
Therefore, that was who Willow was currently on her way to see, going over and over her explanation in her head, fine-tuning it for someone who didn’t seem to know about the whole ‘Hellmouth’ thing, even if she was sort of a witch and had lived here forever and… Oh, here she was. The Magic Box.  
  
“Hi!” she greeted the owner, glad to see there was no one else here even as she cringed at her own syrupy chirp.   
  
But the lady – and you know, why didn’t Willow know her name? – didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss. “Need some help with something?”  
  
Well… yes, and wasn’t it nice of her to ask? With that, Willow launched into a fractured and disjointed hodgepodge of all the possible speeches she’d been going over on the way. There were bits of ‘for a school project’ and ‘I was just kind of curious to see what if…’ amid the babbling about demons with souls along with a healthy dose of ‘which don’t exist and I totally know that’ because ‘yeah, right, demons’ and when it was all over Willow was both out of breath and uncertain if anything she said had made enough sense to get her any answers or if she was going to wind up wearing a white jacket with sleeves that tied in the back.  
  
Would Harvard let her do her coursework by correspondence from a mental hospital?  
  
Guess she was going to get her answer… in writing? Because that’s what the owner was doing right now – writing something on a piece of paper before handing it to her. “Here. This is the man you need to go see. He’s very old, but very wise. He knows everything there is to know about soul curses. Tell him Lorelei sent you.”   
  
Willow did everything but bounce off the walls as she hurried from the shop, only pausing at the door to turn back and say “Thank you,” before racing off into the dusk to find the address on the paper. Wow. She’d done it. This was absolutely the place to go! Very soon, Angel’s soul would be stuck on for good, he and Buffy would be happy again, and that whole squicky kiss thing would be completely forgotten.  
  
Finally, Willow was getting it right.  
  
She'd even learned the Magic Box lady's name.  
  
  
  
What a stroke of luck. The tunnels took Angel right to Sunnydale’s only magic shop and he’d left the mansion close enough to nightfall that he’d be able to enter by the front door now that he was there.  
  
So that’s what he did, walking in nonchalantly and trying to think of how to frame his questions. Surely the woman behind the counter had some clue what was afoot in this town.  
  
How to begin, however? He had never actually patronized this place before and he didn’t expect the woman to trust him.   
  
Wait a minute. While  _he_  had never been a customer, he knew someone who was probably on a first name basis with everyone who’d ever so much as walked by the front window. “I’m a friend of Willow Rosenberg’s,” he began. The woman seemed puzzled for a brief moment, but then her eyes shot wide.  
  
Before he could say another word, she was scribbling something on a piece of paper. “She just left a few minutes ago,” the lady said brightly. “You can meet her there.”  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	20. Chapter 19

Broken Arrow (Chapter 19)  
  
  
  
“Mr. Tempest? Mr. Tempest?” Willow called out as she peered at the piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand. Gosh. Lorelei sure had neat handwriting. If only her own was this nice. She kept knocking, louder each time, but there was no answer… not that she could hear, anyway. Lorelei had said he was really old, though, and if he was in a back room or something, maybe she couldn’t hear him, or he couldn’t hear her… or something.  
  
She put her hand on the doorknob and turned and… what do you know? It was unlocked. Would it be breaking and entering if there was no actual breaking involved? Because she really,  _really_ needed to talk to this Philip Tempest guy right away.  
  
Taking a deep breath and hoping no one saw what she was doing and called the police, Willow opened the door gently and tiptoed cautiously into the house, closing the door softly behind her. “Mr. Tempest?” She made her way further into the house. “Lorelei, you know from the Magic Box? She said it was okay for me to come here and talk to you. That I could ask you some stuff.”  
  
There was still no answer, not even a sound. Okay, this was getting… But no. The people at the Magic Box liked her. They even gave her credit. No way was this anything ooky. He was probably just asleep or something. Or… Oh gosh. Lorelei had said ‘really old.’ Maybe he was past the sleeping thing and into the sleeping forever thing.  
  
Very uncertainly, Willow kept on tiptoeing until she reached a closed door at the end of a short hallway. This had to be the bedroom, right? She knocked gently. “Mr. Tempest?” Then she opened the door and…  
  
There was no one in the room… but there were black satin sheets on the bed.  
  
This was so not good.   
  
She raced back to the door and… oh no. It wouldn’t open. She kept turning the knob and pushing and… nothing. The door wouldn’t budge.  
  
Oh god. What had she gotten herself into this time?  
  
  
  
Angel hurried to the address written down by the woman at the Magic Box. He had no reason to think ill of her, but he had a bad feeling about this, especially as he neared his destination. Most of the houses here had For Rent or For Sale signs in the front yards and there were few streetlights. This neighborhood was clearly a prime vampire hunting ground. In fact, he noted one or two lurking in the shadows, though they were prudent enough to stay away from him. If nothing else, however, Willow would need him to walk her safely home.  
  
It appeared, however, that she needed him for far more than that. As he approached the house, he heard her cry out. “Help! Is anybody there? I can’t get out!”  
  
That was all he needed. In a trice he was at the door. But before he could break it down, he needed her to do one thing. “Willow? It’s Angel. Invite me in!”  
  
“Angel? What are you doing here?” What? He was about to take offense when she continued, “Oh. I’m sorry. Never mind. Come in!”  
  
With that, Angel pushed at the door with all his strength… but it wouldn’t budge.   
  
He tried again… and again… and again. The results were the same. Willow had begun to cry and Angel was growing more agitated by the second. He looked around the porch for something to use to break a window when his hand fell on the doorknob and reflexively turned and…  
  
…He fell into the house.  
  
The door immediately slammed shut as Willow yelled “No!”  
  
  
  
“Mr. Rayne?” The voice over the phone was annoyingly hushed and conspiratorial, but he recognized it as the proprietress of the Magic Box, so Ethan acknowledged her identification and let her continue. “I did as you asked. Everything should be going according to plan.” With that last bit, clearly reflective of evenings spent watching tacky American spy thrillers, she hung up, which was rather rude, but at least she’d revealed the salient point – Willow Rosenberg had now fallen into his trap.  
  
At the risk of evoking entirely the wrong sort of deity, Ethan was tempted to carol a heartfelt Hallelujah.   
  
Now all that remained was to get the message to Angel about Willow being imperiled and then at the proper moment he himself would go racing to Rupert with the news that an old devotee of Eyghon was in town seeking revenge and…  
  
A half hour or so, by his reckoning, should suffice. It might even allow that vampire to be caught _in flagrante delicto_  with the maiden fair. Which made him realize…  
  
Ethan was ready to kick himself now. Why hadn’t he installed a camera? Miss Rosenberg’s ravishing would undoubtedly be a delicious spectacle.   
  
He must be aging, perish the thought, to have let such a detail slip by him.  
  
Oh well. No use regretting what couldn’t be helped. He’d reenact the whole thing with Rupert anyway and, frankly, that would be far more pleasurable. Still… Oh how he enjoyed the despoiling of purity. And he’d laid in such a tidy supply of popcorn, too.  
  
Perhaps a scrying mirror…  
  
No time for preparing one at the moment, however. He needed to set the ball rolling. A phone call later, a carefully worded note was being delivered to Angel’s dreary mansion.   
  
It wouldn’t be long now.  
  
  
  
Giles was at his wits’ end. He knew –  _knew_ , damn it – that something was horribly amiss and he had no idea what it could even be. All he knew was that it must have something to do with that arrow. Sadly, his research so far had come a cropper. None of the books at his disposal yielded anything but frustration and medieval Latin and he didn’t trust Angel at all, so that left out asking to go through  _his_  library.  
  
Just then, however, something occurred to him – there was one other location where he might be able to find something useful: The Magic Box. Admittedly, it was quite long odds and he was completely unacquainted with the staff, but Willow… she often spoke of the place, even had a line of credit there, which – now that he considered the topic – rather gave him pause, but he could worry about her excesses in magic later. Tonight her familiarity with the personnel at that shop might well come in useful since he hardly had time to build friendships with them of his own.  
  
Grabbing his jacket, he sped out the door. Surely anyone who extended credit to a teenage girl did so because they had the highest regard for her character and, in that case, would be eager to help if she were in any sort of trouble.   
  
He got to The Magic Box as fast as the Citroen would carry him, cursing its rather delicately-powered engine all the while and hoping the shop wasn’t closed by the time he arrived.  
  
Hope, it seemed, was on his side – though just barely. He pulled up in front of the place just as a rather floridly dressed woman was locking the front door. “Madame,” he called out as he exited his vehicle. “Madame. I wonder if I might ask your assistance.” She stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him. Really, she was quite attractive, but for now that was neither here nor there and so he did his best to get straight to the point. “I… I realize this is rather awkward, and I’m asking you to take rather a large amount on faith, but we have a friend in common, Willow Rosenberg, and…”  
  
He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. “Oh! Another one? Well, why didn’t you say so?" She reached into her purse, fished around for a bit - muttering something about never having a pen when it was needed - pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to him. “Here. Just take it. I have to go. Blessed be.” With that, she pulled down and locked a security gate and was gone before he could think to utter a word.  
  
The paper… there was a name and address on it and the writing was vaguely familiar. If only he could place…  
  
Philip Tempest. The name on the paper was Philip…  
  
Tempest.  
  
Bloody buggering hell!  
  
Of course the handwriting was familiar! He knew now for certain who was behind whatever trouble Willow was in and that bastard was going to tell him what the devil he’d done and undo it  _immediately_.  
  
His next stop? Not the address on the paper, for that was surely a trap whose parameters he didn’t know – not yet anyway.   
  
No, his first order of business was to beat the answers he needed out of Ethan Rayne.  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	21. Chapter 20

Broken Arrow (Chapter 20)  
  
  
  
  
Ethan hung up the phone angrily, not caring a whit that he’d cracked the receiver in the process. After the news he’d just received, that phone was the least of his worries. The note had gone undelivered. Bugger! His messenger reported that, spurred on by Ethan’s generosity, he’d even dared to enter the mansion and poke about, but to no avail. Where the devil was that thrice-damned vampire?  
  
His plan was going pear-shaped – again!  
  
He sat down in his armchair, about to pour himself a rather generous tumbler of scotch as he attempted to see his way clear to salvaging the latest cock-up, when a noise startled him and he got to his feet… just in time to see his front door crash in.  
  
His landlord was not going to take kindly to…  
  
“Rupert?” Oh dear Chaos, how grateful your servant!  
  
Of course, a moment later, he wasn’t feeling quite so grateful – in fact, he was struggling to breathe. Rupert had him pinned against the wall, hand around his throat, gripping tight.   
  
This was no way to greet an old… friend.  
  
  
  
“We’re trapped,” Angel said, finally, after what looked like impressive effort failed to budge the door.  
  
Willow rolled her eyes. “No. Really?” Okay, yes, maybe her facetious tone was sort of uncalled-for, but cut her some slack – she was magically locked in a creepy house, she was scared, and she felt like an idiot for trusting Lorelei. Plus, Angel wasn’t exactly her favorite person in the world right now.  
  
He didn’t say anything about her kind-of-snotty response, though. Instead he asked, “What are you doing here?”   
  
It was a perfectly legitimate question, she guessed, except… “How did you know I would be here?”  
  
“I went to the Magic Box and found out where you were going.”  
  
All right, that was super creepy. Was he following her? She didn’t ask, though, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Instead, she asked something else – possibly more important. “Lorelei didn’t say anything about why I was coming here, did she?”  
  
His answer was a very annoyed and stern “No.”  
  
Okay, she got that he had a right to be curious, seeing as how he was trapped in here too, but you know, the glowering was totally out of bounds. So she stood, arms akimbo, and faced him head on. “Don’t get huffy with me. No one asked you to follow me here or stick your fangs in my business in the first place. I was totally… okay, I wasn’t actually doing fine before you got here, but I’m not doing any better with you here either, so…” What was her point? She had no idea, having fallen off her train of thought somewhere along the way and watching as it chugged away. Sue her. Angel was staring at her intently and that was bound to throw her off. Was blinking or something else human too much to ask of him?  
  
Angel was this close to furious with her, but he had to concede that Willow in a temper was… adorable. Her eyes sparkled and the way she became flustered and tangled up in her own tirade was as cute as could be and it made him want her more than ever. So, yes, he was going to forgive and forget her rudeness. After all, he loved her.   
  
That did not mean, however, that he was letting her off the hook when it came to telling him what he wanted to know. “Why are you here?”  
  
“That’s not really any of your business,” she replied, eyes still sparkling defiantly as she stood her ground.   
  
He wasn’t going to let those eyes deter him however and he locked his own stare on her. If he wasn’t a match for a slip of a girl, he might as well stake himself.  
  
Luckily, he wasn’t going to need to pursue that option, because after a moment, she gave in – to a degree. “I was looking for some information and Lorelei told me this guy Philip Tempest could help.” Her lips were narrowed in a tight line, but she was looking away. Very contradictory.   
  
His eyes never left her though, and soon she felt the force of his will and met his gaze. So he probed again. “What kind of information?”  
  
“Just… some magic stuff.”   
  
He glared, harsh and commanding; he was growing very impatient. “I’m trapped here too,” he pointed out, “and I have a right to know why.”  
  
Logic. It was the best way to get through to her. Because she paused, wheels turning behind those eyes of hers, and then blurted out, “I’ve been looking for a way to fix your curse… so you and Buffy can be together.”  
  
  
  
  
Buffy was… she had no idea what she was. Except alone. And depressed. And missing Angel.  
  
Okay, guess she knew exactly what she was. Which made her extremely grateful for her spur of the moment decision to give Faith the night off and take patrol on her own. Faith had been creeping her out lately, and anyway, her habit of pushing way too hard and asking very personal questions was way more than Buffy needed to deal with tonight. It was bad enough that there hadn’t been a single vampire or demon to slay so far. Was it too much to ask that a Slayer looking for trouble actually find some? Wasn’t that her job?  
  
Wait. What was that? That was a noise. That was a noise that could easily mean something was out there, just waiting for Buffy to fight it to the death. So, smoothly, with the skill born of long practice – well, a couple of years, anyway – she slid her stake out, assumed her battle stance and stood waiting, waiting for whatever it was that was crunching leaves under its feet to emerge from the trees.  
  
But then… Well, it was a demon all right, but it was… “Oz? What are you doing here?”  
  
“I was supposed to meet Willow tonight but she never showed and she’s not at her house. I thought maybe she was with you.”  
  
A chill went up Buffy’s spine. There might be trouble after all – only it looked like it had gone to the wrong address. You know, she needed to be a lot more grateful for quiet, uneventful nights. “Okay, let’s not panic. We’ll find her,” she offered, with a reassuring pat to Oz’s shoulder. Think he bought the reassuring act? God did she ever hope so.   
  
It would be nice if  _one_  of them did.  
  
  
  
  
All right, fun was fun, but this was becoming damned unpleasant. Yes, he’d indulged in breath play in the past, but that was… well, it wasn’t anything like  _this_  and Rupert had been wearing far less at the time.  
  
“You won’t get whatever it is you’re after if I’m dead,” Ethan gasped.  
  
At that pronouncement, the pressure on his neck was relieved, but before he could get his bearings, Rupert grabbed him by the arm, twisting it behind his back and pushing him face first against the wall once more. Now that oxygen was reaching his brain, the pressure of Rupert’s body against his revealed… “Well, you’ve kept fit. I’m impressed.” And embarrassingly hard, but there was no need to mention that. This display of dominance was quite arousing; anyone would respond.  
  
Giles was in no mood for Ethan’s games – any of them – though he had to admit that being so close to his old acquaintance was bringing up some rather unsettling memories. The way their bodies seemed to fit together just so… No, now was most certainly not the time for this. Instead, he gruffly got right to the point. “What have you done to Willow Rosenberg?”  
  
“My dear fellow, I don’t know who…”   
  
More games. Giles knew how to deal with that recalcitrance. He pulled upwards in Ethan’s arm and twisted, gratified perhaps more than was seemly by the almost girlish squeal of pain the move elicited. “The next time I have to ask, I’ll snap your arm clean off. Have I made myself clear?”  
  
If he’d had such an organ, Ethan was quite sure his heart would be broken. Here they were, pressed up against each other, and all Giles could think about was that ridiculous child. No sign that he remembered the decadent, louche days that didn’t seem long ago at all.   
  
All had been for naught, hadn’t it?   
  
So, with a sigh of surrender at which he felt nothing but contempt for himself, he admitted, “It was a spell on an arrow, the one that barely scratched her. It was supposed to make the first man who saw her become uncontrollably obsessed with her and do whatever it took to have her. Of course, I’d meant for that man to be you, but no, that bumbling oaf of a vampire had to show up and spoil everything, so now… Well. It’s all gone to pieces, now hasn’t it?”  
  
All right, Ethan had explained – well,  _begun_  to explain – but none of it made any sense. He loosened his grip but kept Ethan safely under hand, trying to determine which question he should ask first. After a moment’s thought he settled on: “Why on Earth did you want me to become obsessed with Willow?”  
  
Was that a contemptuous snort? It was! By god, Ethan was going pay for that, so Giles tightened his grip and gave Ethan’s arm another painful twist. “Your years as a Watcher have done nothing for your bedside manner, Rupert.”  
  
“Tell me why you cast that spell!” Giles roared.  
  
“You don’t know, do you? You really don’t?” Ethan’s voice was soft and sad and Giles was so discombobulated by it that he loosened his hold enough for Ethan to slip his arm away and turn to face him. “I thought after the Council sacked you, that you’d come home – where you belong. But no, you just had to stay here with that straw-headed tart and her little band of do-gooders. So I thought… if they hated you, really hated you, well, then you’d have no choice would you?”   
  
Ethan’s eyes were locked on his, full of unexpected feeling and Giles was reeling from shock. “You… I…”  
  
“I’ve never stopped, you know. Not for a day in all these years. Even when I hated you, scorned you, despised you. I still love you, you ridiculous man.”  
  
Love? What trick was this? It was a lie, of course. Ethan was incapable of an emotion as true and lofty and sincere as love. Still, perhaps this was something he could use. Willow, after all, was in grave peril, what with Angel possibly obsessed with her, so – all for the cause, of course – Giles made his own bid for control.  
  
Pulling Ethan to him, he kissed him for all he was worth.  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	22. Chapter 21

Broken Arrow (Chapter 21)  
  
  
  
If such as he could hope for Heaven, Ethan was sure it wouldn’t have a patch on here and now – Rupert’s lips against his, Rupert’s hands roaming over his body.  
  
Oh god! Yes! There! Right there!   
  
Could he be any more fortunate? Rupert’s hand was on… well, at this rate, they’d be adjourning to the bedroom in… “Hell!” Ethan cried out as pain wracked his body. Bugger it! That manipulative bastard had his balls in a vice grip. Was this any way to treat someone who’d just confessed their undying love to you?  
  
It had taken all of Giles’s considerable willpower to pull himself free of the rather meaty grip of lust and get back to the current crisis, but his fatherly concern for the children in his care outweighed his less noble feelings and he was able to use Ethan’s distraction to his own advantage. He maintained a bruising grip on the man’s genitals as he growled, “Do you realize what could happen, you bastard, if Angel were to lose his soul? How do we undo this bloody spell?”  
  
Ethan was gasping, clearly melodramatizing the depth of his agony in an attempt to induce him to loosen his hold, but Giles was no fool and he kept hold of his nemesis’s crotch. “There’s no time for games. Tell me!” he roared.  
  
You know, a bit of pain was always a delightful accent to carnal pleasure, but this was beyond the pale and well past the point of enjoyment – in fact, it was well nigh intolerable. So, hating himself for his weakness, he confessed the truth, though precious little of it. “There’s nothing I can do.” Oh dear god! He was now suffering more profoundly than ever as Rupert squeezed him full force. He was never going to have the use of his organ again if that wretched man didn’t at least loosen that grip. “Fear not,” he choked out. “I lured Willow out on a false errand tonight. Angel has no idea where she is yet. We can go retrieve her and you can…” He breathed a sigh of relief as his manhood received a small reprieve. “You can lock her up in a vampire proof box or something.”  
  
Giles let go completely and Ethan exhaled rather heavily before indulging in a last gasp of bravado. “This is all your fault, you know.”  
  
  
  
“I don’t love Buffy anymore,” Angel insisted, for what felt like the hundredth time. It was maddening the way Willow refused to accept the truth. Yes, it spoke volumes for her character that she was such a stalwart friend, but it was ridiculous and delusional as well and she was going to be forced to see the truth whether she liked it or not… and ultimately, she  _was_  going to like it. Especially when he was able to tell her what he suspected about his soul.  
  
“I don’t understand.” Which  _she_  was now saying for the hundredth time. “How…? We’ve only just had our first conversation about anything that wasn’t Buffy. How can you say you’re in love with me?”  
  
Finally. Finally! At least now he had some idea of the way her mind was working – and that was the problem, wasn’t it? She was so much a creature of intellect that she didn’t understand love at all. Of course, in one way that was good – how could she possibly love that flea-bitten mongrel, Oz, if she thought love was a rational, considered process? But in another way… no, she really didn’t love Angel. Not yet, anyway. And all because she allowed her mind to rule her heart.  
  
What was he going to do? How could he teach her to let go? To open her heart… and give it to him?  
  
Okay, he wasn’t answering. This was so not helpful. It’s not like she was asking questions just to hear herself talk. She really, truly wanted to know: Why did Angel seem to think he was in love with her? Because it made absolutely no sense. Not like she had suddenly fallen in love with Oz before they’d spent any time together. Yes, it was true she’d thought he was cute and funny right away and she’d also liked his hair and thought smoochies would be a great idea, but love? That had taken time – time and understanding and getting to know who he was as a person. Oh – and trust. For both she and Oz, trust was a big part of the love.   
  
The trust that she’d thrown away by getting all fluke-y with Xander.  
  
The trust she’d been so, so lucky to get back.  
  
The trust she was so very not going to throw away a second time.  
  
He could see the wheels turning behind her eyes and it suddenly occurred to him that maybe… maybe the answer was to play the game her way after all. Instead of trying to get her to change her ways, he’d change his. “What if we got to know each other?” She looked puzzled, but her expression was slack and accepting and he knew he was on the right track. “Let’s sit down and talk. I’ll ask you questions, you ask me questions. I promise to be honest if you are.”  
  
Wide-eyed and still clearly puzzled, Willow sat down on the sofa. Angel joined her. Victory!   
  
“When did you first get interested in computers?”  
  
  
  
The story he’d been fed was suspect and Giles wasn’t at all sure he believed a word of it, but given Ethan’s propensity for overcomplicating everything… all right, yes, that scoundrel was currently in the passenger seat of the Citroen, staring at him with sad eyes and occasionally shifting in his seat and groaning in a way that forced Giles to glance and… Oh dear Lord. Yes, all right, he still wanted Ethan Rayne. But he was far too intelligent to give into those desires. “If I find out that you’re sending  _me_  on a fool’s errand,” he warned.  
  
Of all the… Ethan actually had the nerve to act as if he were grossly offended! “I assure you, the spell requires me to enter the dwelling in order for Miss Rosenberg to be able to exit. How you could possibly believe I would lie...”  
  
It would have been impossible to suppress a derisive snort and therefore Giles made not even the slightest effort to try. “Please don’t attempt to convince me that you had a sudden change of heart and are genuinely concerned for her welfare. It would be beneath you.” He added “Rather a difficult achievement,” sotto voce, and was deeply gratified that Ethan’s hurt expression seemed rather more genuine now.  
  
“How can you think I would do harm to an innocent girl?” All right, that lacked a certain amount of credibility, because anyone who knew him knew that Ethan Rayne was no respecter of sex or innocence, but still… well, he had to make some sort of protest. Besides, Rupert didn’t deserve his best. Not after… well, the pain still lingered, the physical pain anyway. He was quite over all that other rubbish.   
  
No more mooning and sighing for this Chaos Mage. He wasn’t that whey-faced Slayer. He was cured, that’s what he was. Rupert’s ill treatment had burned the affliction right out of him. Why he could barely even remember…  
  
Oh blast it all. He wasn’t cured at all. His manhood still throbbed and yet all he wanted to do was snog Rupert senseless, even now. Nothing could rip Rupert from his heart. He was doomed. It was horrible. No wonder the gods had forsaken him. He sighed heavily and stared out the window of Rupert’s ridiculous car.   
  
Well, well! Who could it be suddenly waving them down?  
  
Hell! Giles could not believe his ill fortune. Never had he regretted his choice of vehicle more than he did now, because Buffy had spotted him and was frantically gesturing for him to stop. There was no chance of avoiding her – the car moved too slowly and she could easily see he was driving. How in the devil was he going to explain his passenger?  
  
When he stopped at the curb, the first thing he noticed was that she was with Oz. Then the side door was pulled open and a breathless Buffy cried, “Giles! Willow’s missing! Do you have any idea…?” Then her eyes narrowed and her voice sharpened. “What is he doing here? With you?”  
  
With that, he could see Ethan smirk.   
  
What had he done to deserve this?  
  
“We don’t have time for discussion,” Giles answered, glaring at Ethan. “We’re on our way to fetch Willow. Get in.”  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	23. Chapter 22

Broken Arrow (Chapter 22)  
  
  
  
“… And the most time I’ve spent with my Mom in the last two years was when she tried to burn me at the stake.” Willow followed that pronouncement with a shrug and a little laugh, seeming very uncomfortable with having shared that with him, but Angel saw…  
  
This was something they had in common, wasn’t it? “I was never good enough for my father.” Her eyes shot wide and he continued. “When I was human,” he clarified. “I think that’s why I gave up, started spending all my time drinking and whor… running around with women. It didn’t seem worthwhile to even try.”  
  
He hadn’t expected to tell her that, but he was glad he had, and not just because she reached out and out her hand over his. No, she understood – really understood – and she wasn’t judging him at all. “Sometimes I wonder why I keep trying,” she said softly, and somehow that meant more to him than anything else she could have said.  
  
Still, it broke his heart. “They’re wrong, you know. You’re… you’re a wonderful girl. They should be proud to have a daughter like you.”  
  
Willow was completely unprepared for this. When she and Angel had started talking, it had all been really light stuff like computers and more of the famous people he had met and now…   
  
Wow it was really weird that they both had parents who never thought they were good enough, huh? Guess she’d never really thought that she and Angel were anything alike before. She felt sympathy for him… and it looked like he felt the same about her. “I know your father was wrong about you, too,” she said, and she meant it. Okay, the coming on to her thing had been creepy, but now that they were just talking, he seemed like a really nice person – or vampire – and she was sure that as a human he’d deserved parents who loved him.  
  
It didn’t look like he believed her, though. “I mean it,” she affirmed, “You do a lot of good now,” which was true, because he had saved all of their lives at one point or another, “and that has to mean that you were a really good person when you were human.”  
  
“How do you do it?” He was staring at her now, realizing that there was something to her theories about love after all. Because now that he knew her better? Yes, he was falling harder than ever.   
  
“Do what?”  
  
“See the good in everyone.” He meant that too. His upbringing had made him cynical and feckless, but her own experience with neglectful parents had somehow left her with a caring and optimistic spirit that astonished him.  
  
As usual, she was uncomfortable with praise and she coloured before she looked away, seeming to want to look at anything but him. He wasn’t having it. So he put his hand under her chin and…  
  
He’d meant only to turn her face back toward him, but the contact… and looking into her eyes… He couldn’t help himself – he leaned in and kissed her.  
  
  
  
The drive to that wretched little bungalow was nowhere near as enjoyable as it might have been. Ethan was being a good boy and only speaking when spoken to… as well as avoiding any mention of the pleasurable activities in which he and Rupert had recently engaged. Largely because those same activities had ended in a pain that still throbbed in his groin. The man had become a prig and a spoilsport and was the most maddening… but damnation, he still loved him to distraction. How low could a Chaos Mage sink?  
  
“If anything happens to Willow.” Oh dear gods, how many times was that harpy going to threaten him?  
  
“I assure you, she’s quite all right,” he said, for what had to be the thousandth time. Maybe this time it would sink into that straw-filled head of hers.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. Yeah. Ethan Rayne’s reassurances were so… reassuring. She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him, and from the dark cast to Oz’s usually placid expression, she could tell that he didn’t trust that creep either.  
  
Especially since there were a whole lot of gaps in the story Giles had given them about this spell thing and the arrow. Speaking of which… “So what exactly was this spell supposed to do?” she demanded, her eyes boring into Ethan. “And why did you pick on Willow?”  
  
Unfortunately, Ethan not only said nothing, but Giles put the kibosh on any further questioning. “We’ll discuss this later, shall we? In the meanwhile… We’re here!” He brought the car to an abrupt and stuttering stop and Buffy practically folded him in half as she barreled out first, followed closely by Oz and then Giles and Ethan.   
  
“Are we sure it’s safe?” Her eyes narrowed as she once again glared at Ethan.   
  
“I assure you…”   
  
There was that word again. Buffy didn’t trust that word one bit. “Yeah, I get it.” She turned and addressed Giles this time. She wasn’t sure she trusted  _him_  either, not completely, and memories of the Cruciamentum weren’t helping, but she figured he was more likely to be honest than Ethan so she asked him, “What’s the sitch? Do I go in alone or…?”  
  
“Ethan will have to take the lead this time.”  
  
What? “We’re following  _him_?” she asked incredulously, pointing at the wizened little creep for emphasis.  
  
Giles at least had the decency to look abashed. “I’m afraid so.”  
  
With a heavy sigh, one she was shocked to sort-of hear echoed by Oz, Buffy waited as Ethan started toward a small bungalow and then followed close behind him.   
  
This had better not be a trap.  
  
  
  
  
Oh god. Willow couldn’t believe what was happening. She was kissing Angel, actually participating this time, at least sort of. How could she? This was so cheating on Oz and there was no good excuse but…  
  
Was it the fact that he got what it was like for her? The trying and the trying and the never being good enough and the pain of having parents who didn’t even remember her birthday or know the names of her friends? Or was she just a skanky ho who couldn’t keep her mitts off her friends’ boyfriends?   
  
Especially when the boyfriend was a really amazing kisser.  
  
Whatever the reason, she was winding her arms around Angel and now his tongue was in her mouth and…  
  
“Oh my god!”  
  
Oh no! No, no, no, no no!  
  
It was déjà vu all over again as she and Angel stopped what they were doing, leapt to their feet, and…  
  
Buffy.  
  
Oz.  
  
There they were, standing, staring, both looking as betrayed as… they were.  
  
What had she done?  
  
Again.  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	24. Chapter 23

 

Broken Arrow (Chapter 23)

 

“Oz! It’s not what it looks like!” That’s the best she could come up with? Willow was doomed.

Especially considering the fact that Buffy had stakes and Willow was not at all confident that she’d stop and consider that Willow wasn’t a vampire. Could Slayers slay kinda-sorta-witches?

“It was me. I’m the one who was kissing her.” Angel to the rescue. Was it wrong of Willow to be really grateful and not contradict him? “She had nothing to do with it.”

Oh god, she was so going to hell for this, but Willow nodded her head and looked down. She wasn’t really lying, right? Not like she’d been the one who initiated anything. And she hadn’t liked it.

Well, not  _much_.

Buffy heard Willow and Angel’s voices, but words? Not quite getting those. They were drowned out by the image of the man she loved and her best friend in the whole world locked in each other’s arms.

Was Willow the reason Angel had broken up with her? Was she who he’d really wanted all along? Had he been picturing her the one and only time they’d made love? 

She looked over at Oz and he didn’t look like a wolf at all. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights of the same truck that had just run her down. Should she go grab his hand and make a mad dash out of here? She wanted to. She wanted to run as fast as her legs could carry. Somehow, though, it just wasn’t happening. 

Oz wasn’t moving either.

Oh dear. Oh dear lord. Giles could scarcely restrain himself from throttling Ethan. The smug look on the man’s face… the contrast between that and the heartbreak clearly showing in Buffy’s eyes, the heartbreak he couldn’t… But wait! Oh. Oh yes. There  _was_  something he could do. Because he had yet to reveal…

“It’s a spell.”

Four pairs of eyes were now locked on his; one pair in particular looked skeptical. “Buffy, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you’d be witnessing its effects or I would have told you,” he glanced over at Oz, “both of you. But I thought we’d be able to handle this without the necessity of...” Buffy was glaring, arms akimbo and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Yes, well, clearly that was a mistake. I apologize. But what you all need to know is that Ethan Rayne put a spell on the arrow with which Willow was shot and the result is that… well, obviously you saw. But his feelings for her would never exist were it not for that spell.”

It was Oz who voiced the first question. “Why would he cast a spell on Willow and Angel?”

That was… well, he should have expected it, but he hadn’t and he was rather discomfited about what he might reveal, but it couldn’t be helped. He answered truthfully. “The spell was intended to affect  _me_. Ethan wanted me to be the one who was… well, things went awry when Angel was the first one to find her after she was shot.”

Good. All that and he’d managed to not breathe a word about…

“Why would Ethan want you to have a thing for Willow?” 

Yes, Rupert, that was indeed a good question. How ever will you answer it? Ethan fought back the urge to chuckle, even as he mourned the end of the heartbreak he’d so been enjoying. 

Watching Rupert’s obvious distress was such a delightful consolation prize. “I’ll keep it between us if you will,” he offered, with a sly wink. 

Dear, me… was that a blush staining the dear Watcher’s cheeks? Please, please let the Slayer-strumpet notice.

One person wasn’t paying any attention to the drama unfolding between the others. Angel was reeling. A spell? All the feelings – the powerful, glorious feelings – he was having for Willow… none of them were real? He glanced over at the girl he’d been holding in his arms just a few moments ago and… no, he didn’t believe it, not at all. The love was still there and it felt real and true and perfect, even after what Giles had just told them. 

Her eyes were soft and sad and he wanted to hold her and tell her that Giles was lying and that his feelings were absolutely… But he couldn’t. Not now. So he stood silent, frustrated and helpless, and just waited to see what would happen next.

“Why would Ethan want you to go after Willow?” Buffy asked again, phrasing her question slightly differently in the hopes that she’d get an answer without having to break out her Slayer moves – though she was certainly not opposed to staking Ethan Rayne. Was he leering at Giles? Oh god. He was. He so was. But now she was more confused than ever. Giles? Wanna step in here?

“Yes, well, it’s rather complicated, but he was seeking to create a rift between myself and you,” he addressed Buffy before turning to include the others, “well, all of you. And he believed the most effective way to do that was for me to become…,” he took off his glasses and polished them for a moment before continuing, “briefly obsessed with Willow. Clearly, as we’ve seen, the plan went entirely wrong. Angel’s feelings… well, I suppose we’re very fortunate in some respects that they did not become the unbridled lust that was intended, but… Yes, well, we’re going to have to find a way to fix this.” With that, he turned and fixed Ethan with a fierce stare, letting him know that he didn't for one second believe his previous claims. “And I assure you that we will.”

A spell? It was all a spell?

Willow was… relieved? Because she should be, right? This meant that she wasn’t a bad girlfriend or best friend and soon Angel would get back together with Buffy and… Yes, she absolutely and emphatically was relieved. So much so that she turned to Giles and said, “What do we need to do? Because I am so down with the magical fixing of things.” At that, she finally dared to look at Oz. He was looking… oh god, she had no idea. 

You know, right now maybe it would be sort of nice to have a boyfriend with actual facial expressions.

Should she go to him? Or would that be too much. Oh god. This was so hard.

Except for the part where was totally relieved – ecstatic, even! – that this was all a spell.

“We are going to fix this… right?” Buffy asked, eyes focused on Giles. She just couldn’t look at Angel, or even Willow. Not yet. The whole spell thing was still sinking in.

“Of course. Ethan will tell me exactly what he did and then we shall reverse…”

Just then, that smarmy little creep interrupted. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

Okay, you know what she’d said about not breaking out the Slayer moves? Yeah. She’d lied about that. To herself, but yes – lied.

A second later, Ethan was on the couch with Buffy’s stake poised at somewhere that was definitely not his chest. “You have five seconds to convince me not to pretend that you’re a vampire and that I’m a Slayer with very bad aim.”

“There’s no need for violence,” he replied, in a voice that shook with a fear that Buffy actually believed was real. “As I told Rupert earlier, I would gladly reverse the spell if it were within my power, but it isn't.”

“So whose power is it within? And where do we find them?”

“Nowhere, I’m afraid. The means to reverse the spell were destroyed that very night.”

“You destroyed them?” 

Lifting the stake, she was about to bring it down when… “No, no! Not by me.”

“Then who? Who destroyed them?” Buffy could feel the rage coming right through her eyes and boring into the shriveled jerk who’d ruined her life.

He was smirking again. Oh god. That creep had the nerve to… “I’m afraid you have to thank Miss Rosenberg for the permanence of this predicament.”

What? “What?”

“Yes, I would require the intact arrow to reverse the spell. Unfortunately, your friend stepped on it, and snapped it in two. Now, I’m afraid, well…” His voice trailed off and all eyes turned to Willow.

“Ummm… oops?”

 

 

To be continued…

 

 


	25. Chapter 24

Broken Arrow (Chapter 24)  
  
  
  
They were walking and it was silent and… well… Willow had kind of a problem with silence. “Are you… are we… okay?” She nearly shook as she asked Oz the question and as she did she wished she hadn’t but it was too late now and… you know, now she  _really_  wished she had a boyfriend with facial expressions.  
  
Except that she loved  _this_  one. Because she did. Love Oz.  
  
Right?  
  
Why was everything so complicated and topsy-turvy? Why couldn’t love be like science? Or math? She was really good at those things.  
  
Oz took her hand and kissed her on the forehead. That should be reassuring… but it wasn’t. It felt ‘off’ somehow, even when he said “Yeah.”  
  
“Oh. We’re here.” And so they were. Here. At Oz’s van. Because he was going to drive her home. Which had to mean that he really meant that ‘yeah’ because he hadn’t offered to drive her home the  _last_  time he’d caught her smooching another guy.  
  
“Giles’ll fix this.” The corners of Oz’s mouth turned up and he sounded confident, so Willow nodded. “It’s not like it’s your fault.”  
  
Another nod, then he let go of her hand and she got into the van. No, it wasn’t her fault. Why then did she feel so guilty?   
  
Maybe it was the fact that she already missed it – the understanding she’d thought she and Angel had. She remembered the way Angel had looked at her when she’d talked about her parents – the way she’d felt when he told her how much alike his own were. His empathy was all because of the spell, she knew that now, but what about hers?   
  
And how would things be when Giles figured out how to undo everything? Would she and Angel even be able to speak to each other? Would he be disgusted that he’d told her stuff? Important personal stuff? Would this end up even making things awkward with Buffy?  
  
No, she wasn’t thinking about the kissing, because she didn’t care about that at all.  
  
She didn’t.  
  
Oz drove, occasionally glancing at her.  
  
She had the best boyfriend in the world and she was grateful. Really, really grateful.  
  
  
  
Somehow, she wasn’t quite sure how, Buffy had managed to convince Angel to walk her home and now she wasn’t only wondering about the how part, she was wondering why she’d wanted him to in the first place. Maybe she’d thought that now that he knew he was under a spell… but then again, he was still under it.  
  
This had been a terrible idea.  
  
But now that she was stuck in the world of discomfort she’d created all by herself, she was going to make the best of it.  
  
“Must be kinda creepy, huh?” she said after way too much totally silent time. “Knowing that someone cast a spell on you?”  
  
What was he supposed to say to her? Damned if Angel knew. No, that wasn’t true. He knew exactly what he was  _supposed_  say: He was supposed to tell her that he’d somehow always known, or at least that now that he knew, he was eager to see the spell broken so everything could go back to normal.  
  
None of that was true.  
  
His mind went back to the house and to talking with Willow. How easy it had been to open up to her and share what his father had been like. Even after centuries, somehow it still hurt, and Willow had understood – really understood. More than her beauty, which was a quality, after all, that Buffy possessed as well, it was Willow’s empathy and warmth of spirit that registered most profoundly to him. Those qualities and her intelligence. Their chat about Burroughs and books at the library had been lively and enjoyable and he’d even learned a thing or two.   
  
Could a spell really be responsible for all of that meaning something to him? When it was reversed, would none of it matter anymore? And if that were the case, did he want the spell reversed at all?  
  
And he hadn’t even thought about the happiness he’d felt.  
  
Great. Angel hadn’t answered her. It was becoming clearer and clearer to Buffy that this walk idea had been a big mistake. “Look. I get that you’re probably not Conversation Guy right now, so what do you say we chat later? I can make it home by myself from here.”  
  
She didn’t wait for an answer, hustling off down the street at what she hoped was a pace brisk enough to be purposeful but not so fast that it looked like she was running away because she was upset, which she so was not.  
  
Really. She wasn’t. Because after all, no matter what Ethan said, Giles had sworn they  _would_ reverse the spell and Buffy trusted Giles.   
  
Okay, there was the Cruciamentum thing, but that was an aberration, and after he got fired for caring too much…  
  
No, she guessed she didn’t trust him after all. Not completely. Not the way she had before.  
  
She listened, but there was no one following her. Angel had really let her walk off by herself.  
  
Buffy was the Slayer. Slayers didn’t cry.  
  
There were tears in her eyes as she walked in the front door.  
  
  
  
“Alone at last,” Ethan purred as he got back into Rupert’s ridiculous little rattletrap. Of course, the man glared at him before starting the car, but was it his imagination that, now that they were alone, there was less conviction in it?  
  
“We  _are_  going to reverse this spell.”  
  
Oh. Right. That would have been his imagination then. Damn him for a sentimental half-wit because he could not give up with fair grace and a soupcon of pride remaining. “Must we keep on about those tiresome children?”  
  
“You don’t feel a bit of remorse, do you?” The voice was weary and resigned, yet…  
  
Dear gods below. Was that a chink in Rupert’s armour? How to proceed… how to proceed. “Well, naturally, I do feel a bit of regret about the Rosenberg girl. Never should have involved her in this. Quite a nice thing she seems.” That was even sincere… well, close enough that it could pass scrutiny, anyway.  
  
Giles turned a shrewd eye on Ethan Rayne for a moment before turning back to the road ahead as he drove. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to – or should – believe. On the one hand the man’s claims to regret weren’t so extravagant as to excite suspicion, yet… yes, Ethan was cunning enough to craft just such a meager response so as to enhance his credibility.  
  
Best to err on the side of caution then.  
  
No, he wasn’t going to believe his deeply-regretted one-time paramour for a second. “Yes, and I’m sure if the spell had worked as you intended and Angelus was slaughtering innocents at will,” he paused for a moment and thought painfully of Jenny, “you’d feel so very sorry.”  
  
“You know that was never what I wanted.”  
  
“But you still wouldn’t care. The only thing you truly regret is that the spell didn’t work on whom you intended in the first place. Had I…,” he couldn’t bring himself to say the word, “…harmed Willow, it wouldn’t have bothered you in the slightest.”  
  
They were halted at a stop sign now and so Giles turned and stared truth at the man he'd once believed… No. Not a thought of that. Not now. Because he wasn’t that man anymore, and it was time Ethan knew. “Let me tell you something. In the end, no matter what came of your twisted machinations, you were never going to win. Because even if I’d been cast out of Sunnydale, I’d have gone to perdition before going back to your bed.”  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	26. Chapter 25

Broken Arrow (Chapter 25)  
  
  
  
Giles was poring over every relevant bit of information in Ethan’s collection of books and so far… it seemed the bastard might be right. There was no solution to their current dilemma. Of course there was also no specific reference to the exact spell the man had done either. “Are you absolutely sure the magic you used is to be found in one of these books?”  
  
“Yes.” Then there was a pause. “Well, of course I suppose I did do a bit of adapting and all. Surely by now you’d realize I’m too advanced for boilerplate spells.”  
  
Giles reached for the bridge of his nose. Oh dear lord. This was exactly the sort of thing of which he’d been afraid. The man’s hubris was breathtaking. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if he prayed to  _himself_.  
  
Watching Ethan pour himself yet another glass of brandy stirred another fear within him. “How much had you had to drink when you did this advanced piece of casting?”  
  
Of all the impertinence! Ethan was highly offended by the implication that he would ever… Well, all right. Rupert did have a point. It was possible that he’d imbibed a bit more than was prudent, but he still refused to believe that he’d been impaired and he said as much, at which point Rupert gave out an inelegant snort. “You don’t recall so much as a line of your incantation, do you?”  
  
What? “I’ll have you know that I recall…” His brow furrowed as he struggled to remember… Bugger! Not one single word could he summon from his brain. Oh, he knew the substance, he just had no idea exactly what he’d said. “I’m sure the base of it is in one of these books somewhere.” With that, he snatched a book out of the stack in front of Rupert. Damn it! Now he was genuinely concerned. What the devil  _had_  he done?  
  
And would it rebound on  _him_?  
  
  
  
Standing in the sunlight – a beautiful, golden girl. Carefree and pert, confident and self-aware. Angel had lusted after her from the moment he first laid eyes on her. Then, when she’d become the Slayer and purpose had filled her with a sense of mission and surpassing courage, he’d fallen in love with her.  
  
It was an emotion he’d never felt before and he’d been sure he’d never cease to feel it for her. How could he? He’d lost his soul because of the depth and intensity of that love. It was as eternal as he was and could never die.  
  
But it had.  
  
Try as he might to see through the veil of magic he’d been told had obscured that love, transformed it into a false affinity for someone else, he just couldn’t.  
  
What he felt for Willow seemed just as real as what he’d felt for Buffy. There was no difference in its strength or its substance… only in its object and its particulars. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find what had once been so powerful within himself.   
  
He didn’t love Buffy anymore.  
  
Yes, he accepted the truth of what he’d learned tonight, that magic had yet again forced its way inside him and transformed him, but he wondered if that made his feelings any less real. His soul, after all, had been restored to him by magic, forced inside him, but it was real and it was part of him.  
  
Sitting in a chair and staring into the fire, he thought about Willow – about why he loved her – and all he could see was enough reason for that love to exist to make him wonder all the more. She was brave and brilliant and caring and idealistic – all the things he’d never been when he was human, but wished he had.  
  
What was he going to do?  
  
Well, sitting here and brooding wasn’t the answer, he decided. No, he was going to have to go and try to find some answers.  
  
  
  
The worst part about being alone was that there was absolutely no way to get away from yourself. Even going online didn’t help. No matter what you looked at, what music you tried to listen to, what forum discussions you tried to get absorbed in – there you were, staring yourself in the face, so to speak. Yeah, no running.  
  
Tonight she’d kissed Angel. Yes, she had lied to herself and lied by omission to Oz and Buffy and Giles, but the fact was…  
  
… She was a cheating ho! She had kissed Angel and she had liked it. This was even worse than kissing Xander because Xander was Xander and Angel was Angel and Cordelia was definitely  _not_ Buffy and… oh god! This was bad. Bad, bad, bad! The baddest bad that bad could ever be.  
  
She loved Oz, didn’t she? She sure had thought she did, but now… now she was really starting to question that. How many other guys was it acceptable to kiss while still being honestly in love with someone? Yeah, she’d read about ‘swinging’ on the internet, but that was an arrangement kind of thing that both parties were in on and that really wasn’t germane to this situation at all.  
  
But if she didn’t love Oz… why not? He was funny and sweet and caring and really interesting. He even loved computers, just like her. Plus – cute! And he was super cool and in a band. Okay, werewolf, but hey, there had been months where  _she_  could have stood to be locked in a cage for a few days too. Which brought her back to her original point: He was really loveable so there was no good reason for her not to love him.  
  
Whereas Angel, on the other hand, was all big and silent and beefcake-y and way older (like, hundreds of  _years_  older) and they had nothing in common – well, except for the whole parent thing and the book thing and the serious thing…  
  
Yeah, okay, she and Angel had stuff in common and maybe it was even kind of meaningful stuff but… but he was Buffy’s and… Buffy! Buffy was the best – only – female friend she’d ever had. She loved Buffy with all her heart and the last thing in the world she ever, ever,  _ever_  wanted to do was hurt her. This Angel thing? That would be even worse than when Cordelia was impaled.   
  
Besides, it wasn’t like Angel really had actual feelings for her. It was that spell. That stupid spell!  
  
She stood up and went to her mirror. No, she didn’t see any reason Angel would  _actually_  prefer her to Buffy. Which was good. Very good.  
  
It was.  
  
Because when Giles had figured out how to reverse the spell, then everything would go back to normal and Buffy would trust her and they would still be best friends and life would go on just like none of this had ever happened. Which was exactly what Willow wanted more than anything in the world.  
  
So why was she crying?  
  
Just then, she was roused from her thoughts by a knock at her balcony doors. Huh? Who was it? It didn’t sound like Oz’s knock. Wiping furiously at her eyes to obliterate the tears, she went to the doors, opened them and…  
  
Oh no! “Angel? What are you doing here?”  
  
  
  
To be continued…

 


	27. Chapter 26

Broken Arrow (Chapter 26)  
  
  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
It was a good question and for all that Angel had come here deliberately and with a sense of purpose, he wasn’t sure he could answer it. So instead he offered a question of his own. “May I come in?”  
  
A long pause followed – and every second of it was painful to him. But finally she said “Yes, come in,” and he gratefully passed into her bedroom.  
  
He looked around, noting that it hadn’t changed much, if at all, since he’d come here looking for her help with Ford… or since he’d killed her fish. The tank was gone; she hadn’t replaced them. Was she still fearful? Was that why?  
  
“Are you mad? About the spell? About me breaking the arrow? Because I didn’t mean to. I was kind of woozy after being shot and all and anyway, I didn’t know the arrow was important or anything and…”  
  
“I’m not angry.” Why would she even think that? “I thought… I thought we should talk.”  
  
Talk? Angel wanted to talk? He’d said that before, but that was before she’d known about the spell when she’d thought that maybe he really kinda liked her as a person and was interested in stuff and… “You mean about the spell, right? Because Giles hasn’t called me yet, so I really don’t know what to look for or anything.” He didn’t react, so she added, “But I’m sure we’ll find a way to reverse this really soon. Honest! And you and Buffy will be back to… being you and Buffy.”  
  
He didn’t look relieved at all. Why didn’t he look relieved?  
  
“What if you don’t reverse the spell?”  
  
Huh? “Of course we will! I promise.” Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have promised, but… they were going to, right?  
  
She waited – and waited – for him to respond, but he didn’t for what felt like forever. But just as she was about to say something – anything – just to break the silence, he spoke. “Would it be terrible? If we couldn’t undo the spell?”  
  
What the… what?  
  
  
  
  
"I'm fine, seriously."  
  
"You don't look fine."  
  
"Mom, I was slaying, okay?"  
  
Oh god. She really shouldn't have said that. Now her Mom had that look on her face, the one that showed how uncomfortable she still was with Buffy's identity - with Buffy's duty. One more thing to deal with in a night that was already weighing her down with more than she could carry. "I'm tired, that's all. I'll be perky Buffy in the morning, I promise." With that, she gave her Mom a kiss and headed upstairs.  
  
For a moment she wondered... but then, no. No, very much not. Her Mom was not the right person to go to with all this spell stuff. Because it was also Angel stuff. Angel, who her Mom was still not a fan of.  
  
She sure needed to talk to somebody though. But who? She was so  _not_  going to call Xander. This latest catastrophe was way too reminiscent of what had only recently happened between him and Willow and anyway, once she said the word ‘Angel’ all rationality would fly right out the window. She couldn’t talk to Oz – not that he was a big conversationalist anyway. He was Willow’s boyfriend and it would be wrong. Faith? Yeah, right. Sure, she was also a Slayer and that was sort of a bond, but… no, she wasn’t comfortable with the sharing of the personal with her. Faith was brash and confident and sexual and anything but a romantic. She’d probably laugh at Buffy’s heartache over Angel. As for Giles - he was busy trying to find a way to reverse the stupid spell and even if he weren't...  
  
She wanted to trust him, she did, and most of the time she told herself they were okay and she even believed it. After all, he'd lost his job with the Council over her. But still, sometimes, when she remembered the Cruciamentum... No, she didn't trust him. Not completely. Not the way she used to.  
  
Buffy had no one. Absolutely no one. She was all alone.  
  
  
  
  
“You stupid, vain…” Giles couldn’t even finish a sentence; he was so consumed by his fury at Ethan’s drunken hubris.  _This_  spell? This was the spell he’d elected to choose as merely a basis for his own magical experimentation? It was like mucking about with the ingredients in a nuclear bomb.   
  
Ethan, naturally, approximated a suitably chastened expression, but Giles would bet his last farthing that the man’s only regret was that his spell hadn’t worked. Not a care for the fact that there was absolutely no way to tell which forces he’d unleashed or just how upset they were to have been called upon in such a heedless and arrogant fashion. “You didn’t offer up a single sacrifice, did you? Not even a token.”  
  
Oh dear lord. Would the man’s melodramatic tendencies never fade? He was hanging his head now – the head he was now shaking to indicate that his answer to Giles’s question was in the negative.  
  
You know, this had all seemed like such a fine bit of business at the outset but Ethan was beginning to see things Rupert’s way. Perhaps he’d have done better by waiting for morning and a more sober state of mind. Also holding faster to the text might have been prudent as well, because reading the original… well, he still didn’t recall exactly what he’d said, but he knew one thing – he’d veered quite far from the printed page.  
  
Oh how he hated to admit this, but… “You do seem to have a point. I… well, this wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had.”  
  
Rupert snorted. It was becoming a habit with him, and not an endearing one. “Your talent for understatement is immense.”  
  
Of course, that statement clearly called for a proper riposte. “It’s not my only immense talent.”  
  
As much as Giles fought not to respond, he couldn’t stop the rush of memories that remark evoked. Oh yes, Ethan was a talented fellow. All those nights… No, no,  _no_. Mind out of the gutter. Because Angel was still under that infernal spell and now… well, the more he learned, the less hope he had that it could be undone.  
  
Then, of course, there was the little matter of not having the slightest clue just what the gods were about, what with Ethan having arrogantly bungled even the simplest of mandatory steps. How much brandy had he consumed to be so blind and foolish?  
  
Oh. Right. This was Ethan Rayne. Possibly a thimbleful would have been enough. Grandiose twat!  
  
His mind went to Buffy, and how heartbroken she was. As much as he disapproved of her relationship with Angel, this would never have been his choice for how it would end. Her pain was his and he couldn’t help feel responsible, yet again, for causing her grief and harm.  
  
That blasted Cruciamentum! He’d do anything to go back and…  
  
Wait a minute! Go back… go back… That was it! That was the answer!  
  
Oh, not go back in time, of course, but the arrow… “I’ve got it.” He raced for Ethan’s phone. “I’m going to need Willow for this.” He only hoped that his idea of using the Reversal Spell from the Writings of Dramius would work... and that she had the ingredients, since he wasn't foolish enough to even consider using anything Ethan had at hand. Also, she needed to stop by his flat to pick up the two halves of the arrow. All right, Willow had never actually done a spell of this intricacy before and the last time Giles had... well, the less said the better. But he'd been led astray by Ethan then. Surely under the right circumstances... “We’re going to create a very small, localized temporal fold.” He glared at Ethan. “When we’ve returned the arrow to its unbroken state? We are going to reverse this damned spell… even if you have to offer up your life as the boon to make it so!”  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	28. Chapter 27

Broken Arrow (Chapter 27)  
  
  
  
“Wow.” Willow said, though, strangely enough, nothing all that exciting had even just happened. Maybe that was the ‘wow’ part. You’d think that a temporal fold would be exciting but… no, really not. It was just kind of 'poof' and suddenly the arrow was back to being one whole arrow instead of two pieces. “Is it supposed to be like that?”  
  
Giles looked… well, he looked like Giles. There was that focused look in his eyes and he seemed surprised, but maybe pleased as well. Oz might almost have smiled a second ago. But the best part of all? Buffy looked like all her dreams were about to come true.  
  
No, Willow did not look at Angel. He’d actually tried to talk her out of doing this! After that, she’d wanted to leave him out of things, but Giles had said specifically that he needed to be there, so they’d lied and said she’d gone over to his house and told him to come with her.   
  
Well,  _she_  had lied. Angel just stayed all broody and sullen and didn’t contradict her.  
  
  
  
What in the hell was Giles thinking? Yes, there were personal reasons for which Angel was opposed to this reversal, but there were practical ones as well and they were good enough that any reasonable man would have given the matter grave thought before proceeding.   
  
The Writings of Dramius? Weren’t Watchers forbidden from reading the volume with the reversal spell? What about the footnotes? Did he have any idea what might happen if he failed to incorporate the information from them in the casting?  
  
Then there was the matter of involving Willow in this dangerous folly. If he wanted to risk his own life – or a fate even worse than death – Angel was not going to stand in Giles’s way, but Willow was an eager, naïve girl with precious little magical experience and too much willingness to go along with anything she was told was for a good cause. She wasn’t capable of making a reasoned and well-informed decision and it was unfair and a gross misuse of his authority for Giles to inveigle her into this.  
  
He should say something -  _someone_  should say something. The temporal fold had been risky enough, but now… “Are you sure tonight is the right time to do this?”  
  
  
  
Buffy’s heart sank at Angel’s words. It was easy to see his reluctance to having the spell reversed and she wished she hadn’t come here at all. It didn’t make sense. Now that he knew his feelings weren’t real, shouldn’t he  _want_  for Giles and Willow to fix things as soon as possible?  
  
At least Willow seemed enthusiastic. That was the only thing holding her together right now. She didn’t think she could survive Willow wanting Angel to stay in love with her.  
  
She wasn’t the only one. Oz’s face was as calm as ever, but one of his fists was clenched and she could tell that he could hardly wait for things to go back to normal. It must have been agonizing for him – what they’d walked in on – especially with what had happened so recently with Willow and Xander.  
  
  
  
Willow’s question had been – well – rather an excellent one, because Giles seemed to remember temporal folds being accompanied by a good bit more fanfare back when he’d done them before. Still, perhaps that was because of the rather showy sort of magic he’d been wont to perform in those days. Because here was the arrow – whole and pristine – so it certainly seemed this had been a successful temporal fold.   
  
Angel’s question? Now that he also needed to consider, loathe as he was to do so. Willow – and he himself, he was forced to admit – might have been adversely affected by the emotional strain of the night. That could interfere with a spell so powerful.  
  
On the other hand, how much longer could he control Ethan Rayne, who was scowling like a petulant toddler in the corner?  
  
“I think we’re up to the task,” he said confidently. Willow nodded eagerly to bolster his assertion, so he stood straight and tall as he added, “Let’s ready the arrow and the ingredients and perform the spell, shall we? The sooner this wretched thing is undone, the better.”  
  
  
  
“Spoilsport,” Ethan grumbled under his breath, even as he had to admit that magic made Rupert more attractive than ever. There was something about playing with fire that became him far more than that ratty tweed ever would. Oh Rupert, where oh where did you leave your leather jacket?  
  
In moments, it would be as if he had never cast that spell at all, wouldn’t it? Unlike Angel, or even Rupert – whose nerves Ethan knew were jumping even if no one else could see it – he had complete confidence that the reversal spell could be completed successfully. Oh, not because of Rupert, whose magical reach had always exceeded his grasp, but because of… her. That slight little redhead with the eager, toothy grin. How had he not seen it before? The girl had power in her bones; the ludicrous ease with which the temporal fold had been accomplished proved it. If only he wasn’t so tragically besotted with Rupert… She’d make a glorious consort. Well, as long as she could be brought to heel, but getting hold of her when she was young and unaware… Of course perhaps he might still…  
  
Oh Ethan, how have the mighty fallen? Because you know you aren’t even giving the matter serious consideration. No, you’re going to pine over that priggish do-gooder instead.  
  
  
  
Arrow? Check. Circle of sacred sand? Check. Urn of Osiris? Check. Magickal blend? Check. Sparrow’s teeth and golden feather? Check and check. Giles owed her after this, because those last two had been really expensive and Willow had been saving them in case Buffy needed an invulnerability spell – or in case she didn’t get into M.I.T. the old-fashioned way, not that anyone needed to know about that and anyway she was an absolute shoo-in, everyone said so, but still… Focus, Willow.  
  
“Are you sure I should be in the circle, Giles?” she asked. “Because since I’m the object of the spell…”   
  
“Yes. It needs to be you.” He paused, his brow all furrowed in thought. “Angel needs to join you as well, seeing as how he is joined to you by this magic.”  
  
Okay, that made sense, but boy did it feel weird. Was anyone but her thinking about the fact that all her big spells seemed to involve Angel?  
  
  
  
Stepping into the circle, Angel had to admit to some fear. Magic was dangerous and he was still not convinced that this was safe. On the other hand, as a demon, he could probably absorb the worst of it if Willow was imperiled, so he was ultimately relieved that he was expected to be part of this.  
  
No, he wasn’t going to look at Buffy. He already knew what he’d see… and he knew he didn’t share it.  
  
For a moment, he let his feelings for Willow wash over him. He was going to miss them. Loving her had been a beautiful thing and he already felt the aching emptiness of loss. Would loving Buffy again fill that void?  
  
"Don't worry. I am here to anchor you." Giles's words seemed to reassure Willow. They did nothing for Angel but make him more resolved than ever to protect her.  
  
He took Willow’s hands in his and listened as she began the spell.  
  
The words… Giles said them and then she repeated them. At first she spoke haltingly, but as she went on, her voice became a confident thing and he could feel the power crackling in the air – electric and sharp.  
  
Something was building and he was bracing himself when…  
  
Laughter.  
  
Laughter?  
  
“The will of Eros is not for mortals to command. What is done cannot be undone!”  
  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	29. Chapter 28

Broken Arrow (Chapter 28)  
  
  
  
He had sent the children home, not at all eager to have them witness a possible homicide, because right now Giles was consumed with the overwhelming urge to throttle Ethan Rayne. “What were you thinking?” he roared. “You called upon Eros? Eros? Of all the blasted arrogance and hubris and… stupidity!”  
  
Ethan was all but cowering, though Giles was reasonably sure that much of it was a pose. That idiot was scared of nothing – clearly – if he thought he could get such a god to serve as his scullery maid. “What were you thinking?” he yelled again. And yes, he was still shouting, because it was either that or slaughter Ethan and as much as the prospect appealed to him, he was now sensible enough to conclude that the threat of the penitentiary did not.  
  
“I thought…”  
  
That was rich. “You didn’t think at all!”  
  
  
  
Ethan would have taken offense at that – all right, he  _did_  take offense at that – but Rupert did have a point. He clearly had been deeper in his cups than he’d realized. Eros? Had he actually called upon Eros? Oh Ethan, what on Earth did you do? “I never meant for any of this to happen.” Which, after all, was truth itself.  
  
“But you don’t really care, do you? All you’re concerned about is that this might somehow backfire on  _you_. The fact that you’ve ruined lives… Buffy, Willow. Two young women who have never done you harm.” Rupert’s face had crumpled and become sad and careworn and… oh bugger! All he wanted to do was take the man in his arms and comfort him. Next thing you know, he’d be brewing up a pot of tea for him… or worse, cocoa.  
  
And no, he still didn’t care a fig about the Slayer, but Willow… knowing now that she was one of his kind and he might even have made an ally of her had he played his cards right… “I truly  _am_ sorry about that Rosenberg girl.”   
  
Was that shock on Rupert’s face?  
  
  
  
No, Giles didn’t believe Ethan this time any more than he’d believed his protestations of remorse before except… oh hell. This time the man did seem sincere. Well, either that or Giles was too worn out from all the upheaval of the night to exercise proper discernment. Best to split the difference and simply say, “It doesn’t really matter, does it? Regret? Because it now appears that this spell is entirely irreversible.” He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose as Buffy’s heartbroken face swam before his eyes. First he’d betrayed her with the Cruciamentum and now… now this. “Damn you, Ethan. Just once, could one of your blasted unforeseen consequences destroy  _you_ instead of the innocent?”  
  
  
  
Well, on the one hand, it looked like stepping on the arrow hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as she’d originally thought, but on the other hand… that still wasn’t cause to celebrate. No, not for Willow. Not for anyone. Well, except maybe that creepy, horrible Ethan Rayne.  
  
“I’m really sorry.” Poor Oz. He must hate her.  
  
But, no, because he reached over and stroked her cheek. “It’s not your fault.”  
  
He was right – rationally, Willow knew that – but somehow it didn’t really help. Because she  _felt_ like it was her fault. And even though Oz didn’t know and would never know, and Buffy didn’t know and would never know, she’d sort of – okay, maybe more than sort of – enjoyed kissing Angel and she’d  _really_  enjoyed talking to him. It had been… nice. So yes, there was guilt and lots of it.  
  
Lots and lots and lots of it.  
  
A light went on in the living room of her house. Oh gosh! Her parents were home. Probably not good if they saw her just sitting out in front in Oz’s van any longer. “I better go inside.”  
  
He leaned in and kissed her softly and she sighed.   
  
Then it was over.   
  
She got out and headed for her front door, the sound of Oz’s van pulling slowly away in her ears. Oh how she hoped her parents weren’t in the mood to talk. All she wanted to do was go to her room and cry.  
  
Opening the front door…  
  
“Willow? Where have you been? Your father and I have something we’d like to discuss with you.”  
  
This was so not her night.  
  
  
  
Buffy was struggling to hold herself together. Even though she was alone in her room, she didn’t want to cry. She wanted to be strong, to be the Slayer and not the girl. Was that too much to ask?  
  
Guess it was, because tears flowed no matter how hard she tried to make them stop.  
  
What had she done? Because this had to be punishment for something, right? Had she not slain enough vampires? Had a demon escaped her? She ran down a list in her mind of every transgression and lapse – from the gym at Hemery to Xander’s friends eating Principal Flutie – and she wondered which one of them had been the tipping point.  
  
It wasn’t fair. She’d never even been given the Slayer Handbook and she did the best she could, but…  
  
“Honey?”  
  
Oh great. Her Mom was in her room. Just who she didn’t need to see right now. Except…  
  
“He doesn’t love me anymore.”  
  
No, there was no Slayer in this room. Just a girl whose Mom was now sitting next to her on the bed, holding her close and saying Mom-stuff like ‘it’ll be okay.’ And even though it wouldn’t, Buffy was still grateful to hear it.  
  
She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t. So she just stayed cuddled with her Mom.  
  
  
  
When Angel was a boy, he’d learned his catechism and the world consisted of one God and of saints and the devil and even though he had been impatient with it all, somehow it had grounded him and made him feel secure. Now? Now he lived in a world of innumerable demons and gods and he no longer knew what the boundaries were or the rules.  
  
Even a vampire was small and could be made a plaything by forces so much larger than he was.  
  
He should be angry, he supposed, but somehow… Maybe he was used to it. Or maybe, strangely, it made him feel the same way he had when he was a boy and just the word God explained all the unexplainable things.  
  
It didn’t matter, even if maybe it should. All he knew was that, whatever the reason he’d developed them, his feelings for Willow were going to remain and he was glad.  
  
Now all he had to do was win her over. Convince her to give him a chance.   
  
Yes, there were hurdles to overcome, big ones, but they weren’t insurmountable. Buffy wasn’t the bitter or vengeful type and Oz was… Oz. In time, they’d both let go and forgive.  
  
So that left only one thing up to chance: Willow’s heart. But with time, with sincerity, and with effort…   
  
Willow would love him back. He was sure of that.  
  
Now he just needed to decide how to begin his campaign.  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	30. Chapter 29

Broken Arrow (Chapter 29)  
  
  
  
Lost in thought, it took Angel a moment to realize someone was knocking. He was curious. Clearly Buffy wasn’t his visitor; she never stood on ceremony. It was probably too much to hope that it was Willow.  
  
As he approached the door, his senses kicked in.  
  
It was the wolf.  
  
Well, well.   
  
Angel opened the door then stepped back to let the boy enter. “Oz.”  
  
Willow’s self-styled boyfriend nodded, but seemed to be weighing his words before saying anything. Not a surprise. The boy was taciturn to a degree that made Angel seem voluble.  
  
He’d always found that a likeable quality in Oz before, but he’d be hard-pressed to say he found anything to like about him now. The drastic change in his affections made it impossible for him to consider the wolf a friend.  
  
More than likely, that was mutual.  
  
The silence that continued made him edgy but he knew that waiting for Oz to speak gave him the upper hand. Counterpunching was an underrated tactic, but Angel found it often served him well.  
  
So he waited… and finally Oz spoke. “We’re going to reverse this. But even if we don’t…” There was a pause and the boy locked eyes with him, the shadow of his wolf visible behind his gaze. “I get that you think you love her… but she loves me. And I love her. That’s the way it is.”  
  
If Angel had been a human, he might have been cowed, but he was centuries old and his own demon was stronger and more fearsome than any werewolf. No, he wasn’t intimidated, not a bit.  
  
How to respond, though… Because while, of course, his first instinct was to remind the boy who was the apex predator, that wouldn’t necessarily serve his cause best. A pretense of capitulation, however, would raise Oz’s suspicions immediately and serve his cause even less.   
  
Best to split the difference. He shrugged. “This has to be difficult for you. I’m sorry.” In a way, he supposed that last part was true. After all, aside from Oz’s role in Willow’s life, there was no reason Angel had for feeling any enmity toward the boy.   
  
Still, there were casualties in every war and this time one of them would be the lupine pest currently trying to stare him down in his own house.   
  
Shouldn’t this encounter be over? Angel extended his hand to Oz. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. Believe me.”  
  
Oz took the offered hand, but his eyes were searching as he answered with, “I think we understand each other then.” With that, the boy was gone.  
  
Angel smirked. He wasn’t going to be overconfident and he couldn’t be sure that Oz wasn’t still suspicious, but… yes, he felt that this round had definitely gone to the vampire. Now all that remained was to win the fight.  
  
  
  
  
  
You know, she should be used to this by now, but she wasn’t. She’d thought that after that whole ‘burning at the stake’ debacle and the insisted-upon dinner with her boyfriend which had followed that maybe, just maybe, her parents were going to take more of an interest in her life. Especially since her Mom had started tonight’s conversation with the joyful news that Willow had been offered a scholarship to M.I.T. – the very school she'd been eager enough to attend that she'd considered using magic to make it happen. Willow was sure at that moment that Sheila and Ira must be proud, would want to celebrate, but…  
  
Nope, it was just more of the same, except more the same than ever.   
  
They were going away.  
  
Again.  
  
And they weren’t going to be back until long after her graduation, maybe not even until next year.  
  
The kicker? They expected her to be happy about it. To be overjoyed at how successful their lecture careers were becoming and to be supportive of their ambitions.  
  
She should have told them the truth, yelled at them, told them how much she needed parents – especially now, when her life was such a mess – but instead…  
  
Yeah, she’d wimped out completely, hugged them, congratulated them, and even apologized for staying out late with ‘Bunny’ and ‘that boy.’  
  
They didn’t even remember her best friend’s name… or her boyfriend’s.  
  
Buffy had no idea how lucky she was, did she? Because Joyce was so different. She was always asking Buffy questions, wanting to know what she was doing, offering opinions, and telling her when she didn’t like what was going on – like with too much slaying. Buffy called it interfering, but if that’s what it was, Willow really wished she had parents who did it, because at least then it would show that they cared.  
  
It wasn’t that she was jealous… okay, maybe a little bit. Not that she begrudged Buffy a Mom who really loved her, not at all, it was just…  
  
Why couldn’t she have one too?  
  
Of course, at this precise moment, Willow remembered something  _she_  had that Buffy didn’t… and oh god did she feel terrible. What kind of a skank was she? How could she for one moment even think of being even the teeniest bit jealous of Buffy when Buffy…  
  
Didn’t have Angel.  
  
But you know what? Willow could do something about it. She knew she could.  
  
Yes, okay, Eros was a god and apparently one who had a mind of his own and didn’t really understand the importance and general awesomeness of the Slayer, but there had to be a way to change that, to convince Eros that he really wanted, of his own free and totally un-commanded will, to reverse that spell and let Angel love Buffy again.   
  
Because, no, in no way did Willow want for things to stay the way they were.   
  
Even if a part of her really kind of wished Angel were here so she could talk about her parents with him, because he’d be the one person who…  
  
No, she was not going to be selfish or go down the ‘me’ road. Buffy was her best friend in the whole world. Up until a very short time ago, Angel’s whole world had revolved around Buffy and Buffy deserved to have that back. So whatever Willow had to do to make that happen as soon as possible, she’d do.  
  
So she shut down the pity party, turned out the lights, took down the decorations, and kicked all the guests out. Then she plunked herself down in front of her computer. She had always said you could find out absolutely  _anything_  on the internet. Now she was about to see if she was right.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Giles sighed heavily as he put down the latest of the numberless volumes within whose pages he had tried, and failed, to find a solution to this dilemma. He removed his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose distractedly, and wondered for the first time if Willow might actually be right about the glories of technology as exemplified by that suspect invention known as the computer.  
  
Jenny, after all, had been partial to them as well.  
  
And it was thanks to them that…  
  
Why did all roads always lead to that damnable vampire?  
  
He chuckled ruefully. The truth was that he still hated that creature. Every time he looked at him, he saw Jenny’s corpse, artfully posed on his bed. Soul, no soul… how much difference did it actually make?  
  
Yet here he was, destroying what was left of his eyesight in a frantic search to give Angel's heart back to Buffy, a girl as dear to him in her way as ever Jenny was.  
  
To quote a favorite expression of his youthful charges: What was wrong with this picture?  
  
Hate himself for this later though he undoubtedly would, he decided to take a break. So he went to his sideboard and removed a well-hidden bottle of excellent scotch. As he poured it into a tumbler, he paused before drinking to gaze at its exquisite amber colouring.  
  
That might have been a mistake.  
  
He and Ethan had always done that, hadn’t they? Waxed rhapsodic about their spirits before indulging. Quoting famous drunkards before drowning themselves in excess – both liquid and sexual.  
  
Oh the memories.  
  
A more different creature from Jenny was never born, and that had little to do with gender, but… He had loved them both, though he’d never once called it that with Ethan.  
  
He called it that now, though.  
  
Yes, yes… he had loved the man, and as deeply as ever he had loved his Jenny.  
  
There was the faintest tear in his eye as he tilted the glass to his lips and downed the contents all at once.  
  
Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it!  
  
Then he poured himself another glass. This was going to be a long and difficult night.  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	31. Chapter 30

Broken Arrow (Chapter 30)  
  
  
  
  
“Angel thinks he’s in love with Willow?”  
  
Buffy quickly covered her ears, but not quickly enough to prevent her Slayer-enhanced eardrums from coming close to bursting. Gee, Xander, could you scream just a little bit louder? There have to be a few people on the Eastern seaboard who didn’t hear you.  
  
Explain to her again why they were even having this meeting? Oh yeah, that would be her Watcher. The same man who’d once thought Ethan Rayne was such a swell guy. Why was she taking advice from him?  
  
He  _was_  right, though. With no end to the stupid spell in sight right now, it was a good idea to let Xander and Cordelia in on recent events.  
  
“You know, if we had just staked him any of the oh, say,  _hundred_  times I suggested it, this would not be happening right now.”  
  
Buffy wouldn’t normally find Xander’s oft-repeated threat all that threatening, but there was a werewolf at the end of the table next to Willow who didn’t look like he thought it was the worst idea ever. Of course, Oz was a tough read, but when an eyebrow moved, you noticed, and it was hard not to see that as approval.  
  
  
  
Willow was shrinking down in her seat, wishing she’d thought of a way out of being part of the meeting. Cordelia was staring at her and she knew exactly what she thought: Once a boyfriend-stealing skank, always a boyfriend-stealing skank. Getting back together with Xander hadn’t softened her feelings toward Willow much, not that Willow blamed her, she guessed.  
  
Buffy, of course, spoke up in Angel’s defense. “It’s not Angel’s fault.” Which was true and Willow nodded. And then, turning her Slayer-stare on Cordelia, Buffy added, “It’s not Willow’s fault either. Ethan Rayne did this. He’s the one we need to deal with.” That only made Willow feel guiltier than ever for kinda-sorta-okay-maybe-very-much liking the kisses she’d shared with Buffy’s man. She was the worst of all the worst friends ever and Buffy deserved so much better.  
  
Then she glanced at her boyfriend. He deserved better too.  
  
Should she tell them that she’d been up all night trying to find a way to convince Eros that he wanted to hop on board the Buffy and Angel Forever train?  
  
The lines of sadness and pain at the corners of Buffy’s eyes were her answer, and that answer was “No.” Better to keep her mouth shut until she had good news – which she would. She so would. It just wasn’t right now.  
  
  
  
“Why would Ethan Rayne care who Angel’s in love with?”  
  
Cordelia was staring, narrow-eyed, straight at Willow as she spoke and Giles felt for the poor girl. Yes, she had been foolish in her behavior, but, as the old saying went, it took two to tango, and if Cordelia could forgive Xander, then she ought by rights to forgive Willow as well.  
  
He needed to step in, despite his own discomfiture, and say something. Especially since Willow was as much a victim in this unholy mess as Buffy was. “Angel wasn’t the intended target. I was the one Ethan intended to be… enamoured with Willow.”  
  
“What?” Two part harmony. How nice. Clearly Xander and Cordelia could agree on something.  
  
“Yes, well, Ethan was of the belief that when the Watcher’s Council fire… dispensed with my services, that I would go back to England and we… would resume our old friendship. When that didn’t happen, he… decided on this rather sordid form of revenge.”  
  
“Why would anyone want to be friends with you that badly?” Fortunately, since they came from Cordelia, those words didn’t sting as much as they might have. Still…  
  
“Our f-friendship meant a great deal to him.” Oh dear. Had he stuttered? Prevarication used to come so much more easily. Last night’s alcoholic stroll down memory lane was obviously getting to him.   
  
Damn the man!   
  
  
  
Buffy fixed a sharp gaze on Giles. She’d been wondering about just how good of a friend someone had to be before you’d go casting spells just to get them back. Mix in the rather non-platonic looks Ethan had given Giles and… “Oh god,” she blurted out. Luckily, she was able to stop herself before she could finish her thought. She so did not want…  
  
“Eww!” It looked like Cordelia had just figured out the same thing as Buffy had, but since she wasn’t known for restraint – yeah, she was standing right in front of him, looking very accusatory. “Did Ms. Calendar know that you’re gay? Because that’s the kind of thing you should really tell a girl before she…” Whoops. Was that almost a trip into an awkward moment of your own there, Cordelia? “I mean, it’s the kind of thing that a woman who might not be smart enough to realize on her own would need to be told.”  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes, but inside she was seriously conflicted and this was not a good time. Get a grip, Buffy. No, she wasn’t going to think about the fact that she kind of agreed with Cordelia’s ‘eww.’ Oh not because of the ‘gay’ thing, because she was totally cool with… But come to think of it – wasn’t it something he should have shared?   
  
All right, maybe that would have been TMI, so it was probably okay that he’d kept it to himself. Because the real ‘eww’?  _That_  was her Watcher with Ethan Rayne. You’d think he’d have picked somebody cuter. And less evil.  
  
Enough with the thoughts. Time for the Slayer to ride to the Watcher’s rescue. “I don’t think Giles’s… love life is any of your business.”  
  
“Oh excuse me. I guess it doesn’t bother you that his little gay boyfriend just gave  _your_  boyfriend to Willow.”  
  
That was low and it hurt – especially because Willow was cringing now and Oz was… well, Oz still looked like Oz, but she was pretty sure he was upset too.  
  
Of course, that would be the moment that Ethan Rayne walked into the school library.  
  
  
  
For every humiliating blunder and ridiculous failure on his part, there seemed to be a moment like this – a moment that almost fooled Ethan into believing that the gods still favoured him. “Why, Rupert. You didn’t even send me an invitation. I had no idea you were having a coming out party.”  
  
Naturally, all eyes were immediately on him. Which, he supposed, was as it should be. Still, that Slayer was a bit worrisome. She seemed to hold quite a grudge. “What are you doing here?” Oh Rupert, couldn’t you give the little strumpet some elocution lessons? That voice. It reeked of the gauche petite bourgeoisie.   
  
Of course, the Council could hardly recruit from the gentry, now could they? So he supposed Buffy Summers was as well-bred as one could expect of the sort of girl suitable to be press-ganged into playing the Slayer’s ridiculous - and brief – role as altruistic cannon fodder.  
  
But then there was her question, and it wasn’t entirely rude and uncalled-for of her to ask it. What  _was_  he doing here? If he’d had one bit of sense, he’d have fled town last night, but no, here he was, not merely still in Sunnydale, but right here, in the gathering place of Rupert and his silly little crew of adolescent do-gooders.  
  
What was even more preposterous than that? The reason he was about to provide.  
  
The reason that was – appallingly – absolutely true.  
  
“I’m here to help. To find a way to clean up the mess I made.”  
  
  
  
To be continued…

 


	32. Chapter 31

Broken Arrow (Chapter 31)  
  
  
  
“I’m here to help. To find a way to clean up the mess I made.”  
  
Well, he hadn’t been expecting a hero’s welcome, but surely at least Rupert could have evinced some emotion. But no, Ethan was greeted by a sea of faces evincing nothing but either blankness or skepticism – in the case of that scrawny werewolf, he wasn’t sure which – and frankly, it was most dispiriting.   
  
“I do mean it, you know. I’m genuinely sorry that things got so badly out of hand.”  
  
  
  
Buffy was hearing things. Absolutely. Ethan Rayne had not just apologized and offered to help fix the terrible things he’d done.  
  
But if he had, this was just some new scheme, some way to try to… okay, her mind just went to a very scary and unpleasant place and she’d really just rather not. She already had way more information than she’d ever wanted about Giles’s past sexcapades.  
  
Oh god. Had she just thought about Giles and sex?  
  
Brain bleach. She desperately needed brain bleach.  
  
And a shower.  
  
  
  
Giles glared at Ethan. What was that horrible man doing now? What diabolical plot was he hatching? He wanted to help? He was sorry? Pah! This was a trick. Ethan was as selfish a scoundrel as was ever born, and for all that Giles had spent the night drowning in alcohol and maudlin sentimentalism, he was clear-eyed – though perhaps hung over – now and he wasn’t going to fall for a word of the man’s lies. “We don’t need any assistance from you.”  
  
Naturally, Ethan’s overinflated ego could never allow a statement like that to pass. “Really? You mean you’ve found a way to win over Eros on your own?”  
  
“Oh, and you’ve done so well on that score up to now.”  
  
“At least I can invoke him. You? You might as well shout into the wind. You’ve never had the favour of…”  
  
  
  
“As entertaining as your little lover’s quarrel is, can we get back to figuring out this spell? Because the thought of Angel chasing after Willow is damaging my emotional development.”   
  
Thanks, Cordelia. It made Willow feel warm and fuzzy to know that she’d been so completely forgiven. And the fact that Buffy’s face fell with every word out of Cordelia’s mouth? Yeah, that just added to the all-around sense of kum-bah-ya.   
  
“We can do it,” she said, standing up and staring Ethan down with her very best Resolve Face.  
  
But for the first time, the first time ever, it didn’t seem to have anywhere near the usual effect.  
  
“Well, in your case I’d concede the possibility,” Ethan replied. “You certainly have more power than dear Rupert does.” Huh? Guess Willow’s confusion showed itself on her face because Ethan chuckled. “You don’t have any idea, do you?”  
  
  
  
It would have boggled Ethan’s mind had he not thought about it for a moment, but then it made sense that Rupert had never given the girl so much as an inkling of insight into her own capability. Oh jealousy – how you do prey upon the weak.  
  
Of course that didn’t change the fact that he was still ridiculously besotted with that wretched man. Lover’s quarrel indeed. That shopworn ersatz princess had a good point there.   
  
Still, someone needed to step in and share a few home truths with Miss Rosenberg. “You do realize that returning a vampire’s soul is hardly something within the capacity of your average schoolgirl dabbler, do you not?”  
  
Again, she seemed utterly befuddled and… dear Lord. Rupert did know that leaving someone with so much power untrained and unaware was a recipe for the sort of disaster it usually took a Chaos Mage to perpetrate, didn’t he? Or had being a Watcher destroyed more than his fashion sense?  
  
“Rupert, Rupert. Imagine what could happen were someone to come along. Someone unscrupulous. This poor child could be led entirely astray and who knows what might result? You really do need to sit her down and tell her the facts of life.”  
  
  
  
“We got those in Health class,” Cordelia chimed in. “Perv much?”  
  
“I don’t think he means  _that_ ,” Buffy snapped, rolling her eyes while fighting back the queasy feelings that hadn’t gone away since the moment she’d first pictured Giles and … ewww, Ethan Rayne. Because, seriously, Giles being gay was just fine. There was even a really good artist her Mom knew, the one who looked kind of like Sean Connery, that she’d be totally willing to introduce him to. Or the manager at the Espresso Pump. Or that kind of scruffy but really nice bartender at The Bronze.  
  
Anyone –  _anyone_  – but Ethan Rayne.  
  
Okay, just stop with the thinky thoughts, Buffy. Because you still need to talk to the creep.  
  
“So you’re saying… Willow?” But as she was asking the question, she already knew – and honestly she’d known from… the beginning? Whenever that was. Willow had always seemed to have the kind of natural aptitude with magic that she did with computers… or math… or history… or… okay, everything that required brain power. Was this one more gift that came with being a genius? The she looked at Giles. Guess not, huh? Because Ethan’s claim made even more sense when she thought about the way Giles had never once offered to try the Restoration, even though he didn’t stand in Willow’s way when she wanted to do it.  
  
Looked like Buffy was a Slayer with a super-powered sidekick.  
  
A super-powered sidekick who was loved by the man Buffy loved more than…  
  
Well – no – not more than anything. She had, after all, sent him to Hell to save the world.   
  
And she didn’t hate Willow. Not one bit.  
  
Backpedaling on the inaccurate skepticism in her unfortunate question, Buffy huffed. “Since we’ve got Willow, the numero uno Magic Girl, I’m pretty sure we can handle this. So why don’t you scoot along home now, Rayne? Because nobody wants you here.”  
  
  
  
“Yes. Quite,” Giles agreed, not daring to look at Ethan as he did so. That infernal man would surely see the embers that had been revived to warmth. Damn it!   
  
By all rights, this dismissal should have been enough. Ethan, after all, had no real interest in rendering aid in the first place and…  
  
“I have books, you know. Volumes that neither Giles nor this library possess. Volumes of which that gibbering Council has never even heard. Regardless of whether you  _want_  me here, I can assure you that my assistance will be quite valuable.”  
  
Now, Giles dared to look at Ethan’s face and… Dear lord. He’d almost swear the man was sincere. “And you would place those books at our disposal?”  
  
Ethan met his eyes. “Yes. Entirely. Even Volume Fifteen of the Writings of Dramius.”  
  
Volume… What foolery was this? Well, it served him right for even considering trusting the man. “There are only fourteen…”  
  
“Fifteen, Rupert. There are fifteen. The fifteenth contains the secret arcana Dramius considered too dangerous for mortal knowledge.”  
  
“And you have it?”  
  
“I do.”  
  
Giles collapsed into a chair. This was an opportunity too extraordinary to allow to slip through his grasp. “And it contains something that we can…?”  
  
“Oh dear me no. Nothing dear Dramius has to say would be any help with Eros. I just thought that sharing it with you would offer proof of the purity of my intentions. I do, however, have other works that might offer a solution to this dilemma.”  
  
Running through the possibilities – the pros and cons and danger signs – rapidly in his mind, Giles turned to Ethan and said. “Yes, then. By all means. We would welcome your assistance.”  
  
  
  
Willow heard Giles saying yes to Ethan and she felt… well, not actually a  _cold_  chill, but it was sort of like a chill and it definitely went up her spine and… No, she didn’t say anything. Because Oz actually looked hopeful and anyway, maybe her reaction was just because it was sort of weird to realize that Giles was gay after she’d had such a big crush on him back in her sophomore year.  
  
How was Buffy feeling about this new Giles-fact, anyway?  
  
Also, he’d sure seemed to be in love with Ms. Calendar.  
  
Suddenly, a light bulb went on and… You know, she felt pretty stupid that the ‘bisexual’ option hadn’t even occurred to her until just now. Gosh, Giles was kind of complicated, huh?  
  
So all right, she’d stay quiet and stay onboard the ‘Ethan Rayne is helping us’ train.   
  
But her own research? Yes, she’d keep doing that, all by herself and with no help from Giles’s… boyfriend?  
  
Wait a minute… was that a shadow over by… No, because it was gone now. But Willow could have sworn…  
  
No, she had to be seeing things. Nobody was spying on them…  
  
… right?  
  
She turned her attention back to the conversation and asked Ethan, “When are you going to bring us the books?”  
  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	33. Chapter 32

Broken Arrow (Chapter 32)  
  
  
  
There was something to be said for being the Slayer. It made it easy to beg off research in the name of patrol.   
  
Which was just another name for a lonely walk through Sunnydale with oppressively thinky thoughts as her only companions.  
  
Buffy wished she was as confident as Giles and Willow seemed to be that there was some way to make everything go back to the way it had been, but she just wasn’t. Not that she didn’t think they were trying as hard as they could, it was just…  
  
She had questions, big questions, questions for which she didn’t think there were any answers.  
  
Love.  
  
If you really loved someone – really and truly loved them with all your heart – could magic change it? Take it away? Make the feelings disappear completely?  
  
Because Buffy wasn’t sure she thought so. Not even Angelus slaughtering people she knew and people she cared about, after all, had killed her love for Angel, and that had to be at least as extreme as magic… right?  
  
So what did that say about Angel’s love for her?  
  
It was Hell, wasn’t it? It had to be. Which made sense, she guessed. It had been horrible and Angel had been there for centuries and even though she’d had no other choice she could kind of see how…  
  
Oh god. There was nothing that was going to make things okay, was there? Even if the spell was broken and Angel  _thought_  he loved her again, Buffy was always going to know the truth.  
  
What was it they said? The truth shall set you free? Yeah, well they also said that freedom was just another word for nothing left to lose. Guess maybe they were right on both counts.  
  
Of course, there was one thing she was never going to be free of – being the Slayer. And her spidey-senses were telling her that she was no longer alone. Someone was coming up right behind her. Letting her stake fall out of her sleeve and into her hand, she whipped around and…  
  
“Oh.” It was a human guy. Which didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t a creep, but she wasn’t about to stake him… unless he tried something. She was very much not in the mood. “Who are you and what do you want?”  
  
“M-Miss S-s-summers?” All right… he knew her  _name_? “I… My-my name is Allan Finch and I-I w-work for Mayor… Mayor Wilkins. I think… I think th-there are things you… you should know.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Ethan Rayne’s books were cool – really cool – but so far Willow wasn’t finding anything in them that was going to do anything to reverse the spell. Oh, not that they’d been completely without merit, because there’d been one or two spells that she might have surreptitiously scribbled down and hidden in the pocket of her jeans, but no, nothing that gave her any idea of how to convince Eros that he really wanted to make Angel love Buffy again.  
  
She sighed and looked over at Oz, who had gone over to the computer to try a couple of searches. No, she wasn’t going to tell him that she’d already tried and come up empty, though she wasn’t sure why.  
  
Gosh. She seemed to be big with the keeping secrets lately, huh? What was that all about, anyway?  
  
“So. What’s up?” Oh no. Faith was here. Why was Faith here? “Anybody seen B around? Thought we were gonna hit the cemeteries together, but she was a no show.”  
  
Willow suddenly had a wiggins. Buffy had said she was going to patrol, so why…? But no, she wasn’t going to say anything to Faith.  
  
It didn’t look like anyone else was going to either, so at least this time she wasn’t being all sneaky and surreptitious on her own.   
  
Did everyone else have the same ooky feelings about Faith that she did? Because Faith just gave her a really strange look and…  
  
You know, she really needed to get over the whole paranoia thing. First the shadow-that-wasn’t and now reading way too much into Faith being Faith. She wasn’t looking at Willow at all now. Nope, now she was looking at Ethan Rayne.  
  
  
  
So this was the second Slayer, eh? Ethan gave her a once-over and sniffed, but with no real venom. He’d already conceded the point that one couldn’t recruit cannon fodder from the best families. Besides, this girl wasn’t even Rupert’s charge, so he supposed her level of breeding and style of dress were none of his concern.  
  
Where was that other Watcher, anyway? The one he’d foolishly believed would slide into Rupert’s old role and send him straight home where he belonged?  
  
Oh my. This girl was staring at him quite intently, sizing him up – and quite literally, at that. Perhaps he ought to find out where she lived. If Rupert didn’t come to his senses any time soon… well, a man had needs, after all, and while she wasn’t the sort one escorted to the best restaurants, she could certainly satisfy…  
  
Devil take him. No, he wasn’t going to sate his appetite that way, more fool he. No, he’d stay celibate until it shriveled waiting for Rupert, and didn’t he know it.  
  
  
  
“Who’s he?”   
  
Saints alive. Of all the people whose questions Giles wasn’t prepared to answer…  
  
“My name is Ethan.” Oh no. This was going to… “I’m a colleague of Rupert’s. Just dropping off some books he loaned me aeons ago, catching up on old times, that sort of thing.”  
  
He watched as Ethan got up and walked over, extending his hand to shake Faith’s. Of course, if he’d truly been gentlemanly, he’d have stood when she entered the room. Did no one but him notice the social niceties anymore? Then he realized that he himself was still seated.  
  
Well, he certainly was a hypocrite, now wasn’t he? How long had he been so lax?   
  
Did he truly want an answer to that question? Possibly not, so best to leave it rhetorical, eh?  
  
  
  
Buffy burst through the library door with a briefcase in her hand. “”Guys! This is big. I mean really big. As in, nothing else we are doing right now is nearly as important big.”   
  
Well, that got everyone’s attention, including… “Faith. Hi. Was I…? I was supposed to meet you, huh? Sorry. I ran into someone and we’ve been talking and… Guys, the Mayor is up to something. Something big. I just met…”  
  
“Was it that sniveling little Finch fellow?” What? How did Ethan Rayne know…? “One should never trust a songbird. Had Wilkins asked my advice, I’d have told him so.”  
  
All right. That was it. She didn’t care if Ethan Rayne was the love of Giles’s life. This sneaky stuff he was pulling stopped and it stopped now.  
  
For the second time, she had her hands around Ethan’s throat as she shoved him to the ground and pointed her stake at somewhere that was definitely not his chest. “What do you know about the Mayor?”  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	34. Chapter 33

Broken Arrow (Chapter 33)

 

“There’s no need to be so aggressive,” Ethan choked out, not for one moment enjoying the feel of Slayer fingers at his neck. That Buffy Summers was a feisty little minx, he’d give her that, though he was highly unnerved by where she was pointing that crude hunk of wood in her hand. While it was – at present – a tragically underused appendage, he was fond of it and had such hopes for its future. “I will be more than happy to tell you everything I know. We are, after all, on the same side.”

Did that creature just roll her eyes at him? Of all the cheek! And after he’d given up some of the most prized books in his collection! 

However, despite her bad manners, she released him and allowed him to return to a standing position.

“Well now. We can talk like civilized folk, can’t we?”

Another eye roll. Was that some sort of ridiculous twitch to which Slayers were peculiarly prone?

“As I was saying before you overreacted, I had the rather dubious pleasure of meeting the Mayor briefly, as well as his associate, the loquacious Mr. Finch.” His eyes went to Faith. She was a shifty one, that girl, and he decided to keep a few key details to himself. “He sought to avail himself of my services for some nebulous cause which seemed to me rather deleterious to the welfare of the citizenry. Of course, I declined.” 

Was that skepticism on Rupert’s face? A disdainful little coughing sound he heard from the man’s own throat? 

Ethan sighed, but then continued. “I am sure he believes I left this fair city for good. He certainly made a rather aggressive case for my doing so. But I’m not a man who threatens easily, as I am sure, Rupert, that you are aware.”

 

Giles glared at his erstwhile paramour, certain of two things. One: that he was telling the truth. Two: that he was by no means telling all of it. Damn him! 

He should have known that there was more to that damned episode with the bespelled candy, but no – he’d allowed Ethan to get away with claiming to have been merely subcontracting for the horrid Trick. Of course, he had been rather impaired at the time. Still, it was a poor excuse and Giles would have kicked himself, literally, would not the gesture have excited confusion – and probably ridicule.

Speaking of which…

“What did we miss?” Ah, the return of Xander and Cordelia. While Giles, naturally, was happy for the boy that he was reunited with the girl he fancied, their hormones were wreaking havoc with research.

“Not much.”

 

“Only everything,” Buffy offered, probably with more venom than she should have. Guess she was a little jealous, huh? Here they were, hands all over each other, probably having just had way too much fun in the janitor’s closet, and she… Yeah, she got to make secret deals with Deputy Mayors while the man she loved pined away for her best friend.

Her life sucked.

But that was no reason to be nasty to her other best friend and she knew it. She was better than that. “I just had a meeting with the Deputy Mayor and he told me that Mayor McCreepy is way creepier than we thought. He’s got plans. Big ones. He’s been making deals with demons. Lots of deals. For years. Apparently he’s well aware of what goes bump in the night… and he’s part of it.”

Well, if she’d been looking to stun everyone into silence, then it sure looked like she succeeded. Even Cordelia…

Well, not entirely. “Oh my god. My parents donated to his last campaign.”

 

Willow was confused. Why would Cordelia’s parents donate…? “Didn’t he run unopposed?” 

Oh no. Was she ever going to learn to keep her mouth shut? Not like Cordelia didn’t already dislike her enough. 

Then Oz squeezed her hand and gave her a soft half-smile. Okay, that helped. 

She turned to Buffy. “Why would the Mayor be making deals with demons?” As she asked, she wondered if maybe that was actually kind of a common political practice. It would sure explain a lot. Newt Gingrich being Time Magazine’s Man of the Year, for instance. 

Yes, that still bugged her, okay?

“He’s doing something big. Finch wasn’t sure what, but…” Buffy suddenly stopped speaking and was staring sadly at… Oh god. Angel was here. Why was Angel here? Willow held tight to Oz’s hand and decided that not looking at Angel unless she had to was the best way to go… so she looked at Ethan instead and…

Ugh. He looked like he was totally enjoying Buffy’s pain. What did he have against Buffy, anyway? Maybe she needed to talk to him.

 

Angel had stayed away long enough. He’d hoped… but even he knew it was ridiculous to believe Willow would come to him. No, he was definitely going to have to be the one in pursuit, and so here he was. Besides, he’d been hearing things about the El Eliminati being in town and that didn’t bode well for any of them. 

Yes, he still cared about fighting the good fight and while he no longer loved Buffy, her mission was still his – saving the world… or as much of it as he could.

So he did his best to tamp down the anger he felt when he saw Willow holding Oz’s hand and turned to Giles. “I’ve heard some rumours. There’s a cult – vampires – called the El Eliminati. They’re in town trying to resurrect their leader. A demon named Balthazar.”

Just as Buffy was about to speak, there was a new voice. “There’s a matter of grave importance we need to discuss immediately.” 

 

That _must_ be the new Watcher. Ethan was decidedly unimpressed. Didn’t his stipend cover a proper tailor? The man’s suit was an appallingly poor fit. How could a Slayer respect such a pathetic excuse for a mentor? “And what might that matter be?” he asked, deciding to immediately make his presence – and status – known. 

The man blinked myopically, mouth opening and closing in rather the manner of some small fish – a minnow, perhaps. “May I ask who this person is and what he is doing here?” He was clearly staring at the many sensitive volumes cluttering the tables. Oh if that sad little fellow only knew.

He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. Ethan Rayne.”

The man at first straightened rather pompously and was about to shake Ethan’s offered hand when… “Oh my… what is… This is Ethan Rayne!” He turned accusing eyes on all and sundry. “Do you know who he is? What is this man doing in the library?”

 

Giles let out the latest in what had lately become an infinite string of heavy sighs. “I am well aware, Wesley. But he’s been…” Of course, that was a sentence which demanded to be finished. Unfortunately, Giles had no idea how.

Not for the first time, Buffy came to his rescue. “It’s a long story. Just go with it for right now. We’ve got this covered.”

Which might well have ended the conversation until Cordelia felt the need to add, “He’s Giles’s boyfriend.”

Then the flood of teenage opinion was unleashed. 

“He _was_. Not anymore.” Buffy’s death glare was something to be feared.

“Don’t you think that’s Giles’s business?” Bless you, Willow.

“Wow. Guess that’s our bad luck then.” Being leered at by Faith? Not an experience he’d needed to have twice.

Xander, providentially, contented himself with spluttering, but Oz offered a narrowing of the eyes that drained all the potential mirth from the situation. Clearly he was not of a mind to forgive Ethan even slightly.

Not that Giles did either, of course. Oh no indeed. Ethan was a horrible man and most definitely Giles’s past, not the present or future. No. Not at all.

Of all people, it was ultimately Angel who effected a proper rescue, ending the discussion and getting back to business. “We don’t have time for this. What are we going to do about the El Eliminati?”

Wesley immediately chimed in, “Yes. As I was trying to tell you all when I came in, the El Eliminati are devoted to a demon named Balthazar and they’re seeking an amulet which…” 

Buffy interrupted him. Rather disdainfully. “I like jewelry as much as the next girl, but we need to look at the big picture here. The Mayor has some major spell he’s planning to do tonight and we need to stop him.”

As quite vociferous bickering ensued, Giles crumpled dejectedly into a chair. Perhaps it would have been better to stick to the uncomfortable dissection of his relationship with Ethan after all, because this? This was as daunting a prospect as they had ever faced.

Two enemies and both needed to be dealt with immediately. What in heavens name were they going to do?

 

To be continued…


	35. Chapter 34

Broken Arrow (Chapter 34)  
  
  
  
“Is it just me or are apocalypses not as apocalyptic as they used to be?” Buffy brushed the leftover Trick dust from her clothes and stared balefully at the really gross Mayor bones lying within the suit in the corner of the room. “Thanks, Will.” Turned out that when you weren’t using it on annoying gods, that reversal spell thingie worked after all.   
  
She looked over at Angel reflexively. Guess part of her wasn’t ready to accept that things weren’t the same. But they weren’t. That look of admiration she’d always seen after some really good do-gooding was noticeably absent. Instead, he was gazing at Willow.  
  
The fact that Willow’s do-gooding had probably been more impressive than hers didn’t help. She was pretty sure Angel would have been gazing at her friend anyway.  
  
As much as a more exciting battle would have been a welcome distraction, she had to say, “Hope everything went as easily as this for Faith dealing with that Balthazar guy.”  
  
“I’m sure she’s okay,” Willow offered cheerily. “I mean, she has Oz and Giles and Xander with her, so it’s not like she had to fight him alone.”  
  
Willow was probably right. Also, maybe it seemed petty, but Buffy took great comfort from the fact that her friend hadn’t once looked at Angel. It was hard enough that Angel hadn’t taken his eyes off her.  
  
Ewww. Neither had Ethan Rayne.  
  
  
  
That girl… had Ethan known, he might have thought there was no need for the spell at all, saved himself all this aggravation. What potential. She was filled to bursting with power. Watching her work that reversal spell… He’d all but forgotten the words to feed her. Why the devil wasn't she glorying in that power, wielding it with gleeful abandon as  _he_  would surely have done? All he could say was that it was such a waste.  
  
Still, it was hard to believe Rupert wasn’t salivating all over her, greedy for that same power. How much could his lover have changed?  
  
Then he looked at himself in a metaphorical mirror. Oh yes, they’d both changed, hadn’t they? Gone soft and foolish: Rupert for duty and Ethan…for love.  
  
Speaking of love… oh the poor little Slayer. Watching her one true vampire gazing adoringly at Willow. Well, honestly, Ethan wondered if a spell had even been needed. If his own tastes were any barometer… Then again, most men were simple creatures and Buffy Summers was likely the more popular choice. He supposed vampires like Angel were no different from who they’d once been – blonde hair, ample bosoms, and minimal clothing were the stuff of their vapid dreams.   
  
Of course, the Summers girl was the Slayer as well and he had to concede that she  _was_  rather skilled at her job. More so than any Slayer of whom he’d known. And yes, she was a bit more clever and witty than he’d previously considered. There was certainly that.  
  
All right. Rupert’s admiration for the girl made  _some_  sense.  
  
But he was still convinced that he’d done Angel rather a favour.  
  
  
  
Angel was astounded by what Willow had just done. A few words in an unknown tongue and she’d managed to defeat a man whose own magical skill, along with his wiles, had kept him alive longer than many vampires. “Maybe we should go and see if Faith needs any help,” he suggested, thinking that, despite having Oz and Giles on her team, she was nowhere near as ably-supported as Buffy had been.   
  
“Sounds like a plan.” Buffy was trying to sound breezy, but Angel knew… No, he wasn’t going to talk to her, to give her false hope. He loved Willow and the sooner she accepted it, the sooner she’d move on.  
  
“Let’s do it.”  
  
“Okay.” Willow sounded tentative and she looked at him for only the briefest of seconds as she agreed. She was anxious and unnerved. Oh, not about the demon they were about to see if Faith needed help killing, but about the idea of letting go of the safe and placid world in which she lived and daring to live in his.  
  
Somehow, seeing her today, all that power suddenly manifesting – he understood that fear better than ever. She wasn’t the girl she’d always believed herself to be and it was unsettling to her. She wasn’t ready to accept it. It upset the order of things, and if one thing was still true about her – and maybe always would be – it was that she was a girl who wanted life to be predictable, to be able to depend on a certain sameness and familiarity.  
  
Things were changing, though – or rather, they already had and she could no longer deny it.  
  
Well, she’d come through with flying colours the first time that had happened – when Buffy had upended her world and shown her monsters. She’d do it again.  
  
This time, he’d be the one who’d guide her through the darkness.  
  
If Ethan Rayne weren’t such an oily and duplicitous creature, Angel would almost want to thank him.  
  
  
  
“We’re out of here,” Buffy said, and Willow thought she sounded tired even though the fight had been really… pretty minor. Trick had been so freaked out when Mayor Wilkins had turned into Mister Bones that he hadn’t exactly seen Buffy’s stake coming.  
  
She followed the others, still kind of freaked out herself. After the reversal spell had totally failed before, she had to admit she hadn’t expected to do much better with it this time. Man had she been wrong.   
  
Those bones… she could still see the Mayor’s surprised and terrified face as he decomposed and died right in front of them. As evil as he was… she almost felt sorry for him.  
  
Had he ever been good? Had he started out maybe wanting to live forever so he could do more for the city? Make good on all those campaign promises that always took longer to fulfill than you’d thought they would because planning commissions and council members always had their own agendas? (Not that Willow was bitter because absolutely nothing had been done about her proposal to rename the auditorium that served as the city’s polling place in honour of Clara Chan Lee.) Had the power just  _gotten_  to him and made him evil? And if that was true, what would power do to  _her_?  
  
Because she  _was_  powerful, huh? If she wasn’t, wouldn’t Ethan have done this spell today? Or Giles?  
  
She was a witch, wasn’t she? Even though her Mom wasn’t one, like Amy’s Mom, and nobody in her family – at least as far as she knew – was one and she didn’t come from some powerful magical tradition like Jenny Calendar, somehow, plain, ordinary Willow Rosenberg was a real witch.  
  
Oh god. This was way more than she could handle. She wasn’t special. She wasn’t like Buffy.   
  
Not like she was the only kid in Sunnydale who dabbled in magic stuff either. The Magic Box did pretty big business among her fellow students.   
  
But they weren’t like her, were they? Nope. If they were, Sunnydale High would have a way higher percentage of students with perfect SAT scores.   
  
And Corvettes.  
  
Here she was, though, restoring souls and destroying mayors and… Why was she the one who had all this big time mojo? How did this even happen to her?  
  
She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, the way she saw Buffy do sometimes.   
  
Did it work for Buffy? ‘Cause it sure wasn’t working for her.  
  
Pretending that everything was okay, she picked up the pace to keep up with the others.  
  
A quick glance at Ethan Rayne… and he smiled at her. It reminded her of the other thing she was upset about – Angel and his refusal to even  _want_  to not be in love with her.  
  
It didn’t make sense. Things were supposed to make sense.  
  
Weren’t they?  
  
Oops. No time for thinky thoughts. Here they were – creepy demon central. Just in time to see a worse for wear Faith, followed by an even more worse for wear Oz and Giles and Xander come straggling out of the building. “I have two words for that Balthazar guy,” Xander quipped. “Jenny Craig.” He looked them over. “You guys look like you... are really lucky we took on the real Big Bad. Obviously the Mayor was totally weak.”  
  
Buffy chuckled, but smiled. “Well, we had a Willow.” Which only made Willow feel more self-conscious and icky than ever. Especially since…   
  
Okay, having Faith look her over? Possibly Willow’s least-favorite moment since… her last least-favorite moment. She was having a lot of them lately, wasn't she? “So you’re the big kahuna now, huh?”  
  
Luckily, since Willow couldn’t come up with a witty response, something caught her attention – something that was way more important and a handy distraction. “Guys? Giles looks kind of dizzy. Did he hit his head… again?”  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	36. Chapter 35

Broken Arrow (Chapter 35)  
  
  
  
Another day, another trip to the ER for Giles. How many head injuries had he sustained since coming to Sunnydale anyway? Buffy hoped no permanent damage was done. Because she had pretty much forgiven him for the Cruciamentum (well, almost, anyway).   
  
Also: What would happen if she got stuck with Wesley?  
  
Could she just say right now that she was so grateful Wesley had elected to stay back at the library ‘in case anything went wrong’ (but really because he was a total wimp)?  
  
Speaking of which… Xander came back from the payphone fuming. “If Wesley was a man, I’d punch him.” Had he insulted Cordelia? Now Buffy felt guilty. She’d been so grateful Cordelia didn’t want to come along. She hadn’t for a moment thought that Wesley would be a jerk to her. “Is there a law against creepy foreigners ogling teenage girls?”  
  
Oh god. That was way worse than insulting and Buffy realized that for probably the first time ever she felt sorry for Cordelia. But then again, “I’m pretty sure whatever she said to him was punishment enough.” She saw Willow nod vigorously in agreement – backup from someone who had a lot of experience on the receiving end of Cordelia’s cutting remarks.  
  
Xander glared at her; guess maybe she could have been more sympathetic. “Look, the battles are over. The bad guys are toast. Why don’t you head back to the library?”  
  
  
  
“Here.” Willow handed him the weapons bag. “You can always whip out one of these and threaten Wesley. Some of them still have demon guts on them. I’m sure Cordelia will appreciate it.”  
  
“Thanks.” Xander gave her a small smile as he took the bag and headed off. Faith looked him over as he walked away. God. Did she do that to everybody? Willow had always thought it was guys who were supposed to be the perpetually horny ones.   
  
Speaking of guys… Angel and Oz were standing far apart but she could still feel the tension between them. This was not of the good. She wondered if breaking this stupid spell would fix things or if those two were doomed to disliking each other a lot forever. That would totally ruin any future double dates.  
  
She walked over to her boyfriend. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey.” He was looking at her strangely, as if he didn’t quite know her… and wasn’t sure he wanted to. “Looks like you whipped out some serious mojo, huh.”  
  
“Not really.” She shrugged, playing down the significance of what had happened. After all... “It was the same reversal thing we tried with Ethan’s spell. It worked this time, but that still means I only get it right 50% of the time. If my grades were like that, I’d be destined for a career at the Doublemeat Palace.”  
  
  
  
Ethan Rayne shook his head ruefully as he eavesdropped on the insipid melodrama playing out in the corner. This girl… this foolish, foolish girl. He gave up. He truly did. She was a hopeless case. Downplaying her abilities… He’d never done anything of the sort and he never would, not even to win over… No, not even to win Rupert back. Yes, he’d admittedly sunk to some appalling depths, but he’d never denied who and what he was as this silly child was doing.  
  
It was this town, wasn’t it? The Hellmouth. It had the most horrible effect on people, turning everything on its head. If Rupert would just come home to England where he belonged, he’d be back to his old self again in no time. No more of this do-gooding nonsense. And the tweed! Gods below, the tweed! Did the man even own a leather jacket anymore? Ethan at least needed to get him to a proper tailor. A bespoke suit, well-cut… It would look marvelous draped over the chair next to his bed – while he and Giles partook in activities best performed sans vêtements.   
  
One thing could be said for the band of do-gooders, however – he did agree with the business of putting a stop to the Mayor. The man had been on a rather extraordinary power trip, even by Ethan’s standards, and that was too far for any man to be allowed to go.   
  
  
  
It was painful, watching the way Willow was jumping through hoops to try and placate Oz. Angel almost cursed the enhanced hearing that allowed him to hear their conversation, because it tied him up in knots.   
  
She’d done something extraordinary tonight. He’d seen it with his own eyes – watched a century old creature who had the patronage of the most powerful demons on the Hellmouth, a man standing on the cusp of invulnerability, not only stopped but reduced to the dust to which his mortal nature should have consigned him decades ago.  
  
All because of the power Willow had.  
  
She should be celebrating her triumph and instead… instead she was making light of it and all but apologizing for it to the insecure mongrel who supposedly loved her and…  
  
No. No. He wasn’t going to stand by and let this happen.  
  
But what could he do without blundering and making things worse?  
  
That old line about honey and vinegar came to mind. It was worth a shot.  
  
He smiled and walked over to where Willow and Oz were still talking and directed his comments straight to the mutt. “She did great, didn’t she? Between her and Buffy, the Mayor had no chance. You must be proud of her.”   
  
Oz looked… well, his expression wasn’t easy to read, but Angel was better at that than most and he knew there was confusion there. Good. That was as it should be. Time to muddy the waters even further. “It was a good thing Faith had you on her team.”  
  
“Thanks.”   
  
Was that a tentative smile on Willow’s face? Angel crowed inwardly. His friendly overtures to the wolf had been the right tactic. And it hadn’t been a lie, after all – it _was_ good that Oz had been off with Faith instead of distracting Willow with his disapproval.  
  
“I know Buffy really appreciated you going with her. That way there was… well, someone not exactly human on each team.” He gestured, including himself. Of course, the difference was that Oz was much less comfortable with his supernatural status than Angel.  
  
Or than Willow would be once she was free of Oz’s yoke.  
  
  
  
Gosh. Angel was sure being nice. And he was talking about Buffy. Was it possible that the spell was wearing off? Maybe her reversal hadn’t failed after all! Maybe it just took longer because of the whole god thing. Or Eros could have changed his mind.  
  
She tucked her arm through Oz’s and smiled brightly. “All the baddies are defeated. I think it worked out perfectly.”  
  
“Yes, it did.” Angel was all smiling and totally calm. He seemed way more normal. Willow wanted to break into song… well, except for the fact that her singing voice was only slightly better than Cordelia’s. Yeah. Random musical moments were off the agenda. But she was singing inwardly – in someone else’s voice.  
  
That made her wonder: What would it be like if the world was like a musical? If people in Sunnydale walked around singing songs about math class? Or killing vampires?  
  
That would be weird – and kind of awful.  
  
Had she mentioned her own horrible singing voice? Or Cordelia’s?  
  
Could Angel sing?  
  
Okay, now might be a good time to get off the musical tangent. People were talking and she hadn’t exactly been listening.  
  
“Guys?” Buffy’s voice interrupted the conversation Willow hadn’t heard. Yet again, Buffy was Willow’s hero. “Giles is all fixed up. We should get out of here.”  
  
So, with her arm still linked through Oz’s, Willow followed the leader, along with Ethan and Faith and Giles and Angel, to the elevator. Time to go home and get some rest. She’d kind of earned it, huh?  
  
It had been a really good night.  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	37. Chapter 36

Broken Arrow (Chapter 36)  
  
  
  
She should have been on… well, maybe not Cloud Nine, considering all the stuff still going on, but darn it, Willow should have been happy and glowing and feeling all useful in the fight against evil, but was she?  
  
Nope.  
  
Instead of settling into bed with a head full of happy thoughts and the memory of smoochies, she was sitting in her desk chair with a tear-stained, blotchy face after an argument with Oz – an argument about using magic.  
  
Okay, she got that power could be a dangerous thing - heck, the Mayor was a pretty good object lesson in that regard – but that didn’t mean that her skill with magic was going to automatically turn her into the Queen of Darkness, intent on mayhem and world destruction. She could be a force for good.  
  
Like tonight. She and Buffy had made a great team, each taking down one bad guy, better together than either would have been alone, and between the two of them they’d helped save the world.  
  
Wasn’t that something to celebrate?   
  
Why couldn’t Oz be supportive? She was supportive of _him_. She never told him he shouldn’t cut school for band stuff or got weird about his whole werewolf thing. Couldn’t he at least _try_ to understand her magic?  
  
Then there was a knock at her French doors. Oz! It had to be Oz! Was he here to apologize?   
  
She rushed to the doors and flung them open.  
  
“Buffy?”  
  
  
  
“Hi.” She looked around, sort of half-expecting to see Oz in the room behind her friend, but then Buffy took in Willow’s tear-stained face. Oh god. Had something happened? She’d come over to try and cheer herself up with a rah-rah recap of tonight’s heroics, but it looked like she wasn’t the only one for whom afterglow had not been all that glow-y. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing.” Willow had a wide, cheesy grin on her face. Nope. Not buying it. It didn’t in any way coordinate with the blotches and the puffy eyes.  
  
“This is me you’re talking to. What happened?”  
  
Willow gave in with a sigh and a heavy droop of the shoulders. “Oz and I had a fight.”  
  
Even though Buffy had already figured that was it had to be, she was concerned about one small, selfish point. Please let it not be about…  
  
“About magic.”  
  
It wasn’t about Angel? Yes, her heart sort of, kind of soared. She felt horrible about that, so she banished all thoughts of ex-lovers and kicked into ‘best friend’ high gear. She hugged Willow. “Why would you fight about that?” Which was a genuine question because from where Buffy was standing, Willow’s magic was a good thing. Yes, okay, she’d had sort of a territorial moment briefly tonight when Willow had taken down the Mayor, but hey, _she_ had taken out Trick, the badass vampire who’d killed Faith’s Watcher, and reflection had made her realize that it was kinda cool having a partner in slayage. Especially one who wasn’t Faith – oh she of the inappropriate remarks and a woman-of-mystery routine that made Angel look like a guest on Ricki Lake.  
  
And great – all trains of thought stopped at the Angel station.  
  
“I’m glad you have the magic thing going for you, Will. Oz will get used to it. It’s probably just an adjustment for him, you know? He’s not the only supernatural one in the relationship anymore.”  
  
Willow looked at her with eyes so full of hope and Buffy felt… relieved. She was human, okay? With Angel in hot pursuit, Buffy had to wonder if Willow was able to resist charms to which Buffy herself had succumbed. It looked like her friend was all about Oz, though.  
  
Time to do more penance. “How about we watch some TV?”  
  
Willow smiled eagerly and soon the two girls were perched on the bed, giggling as Willow translated what some woman in a blue sari was singing. Indian TV. It didn’t fix anything… but it didn’t _not_ fix anything either.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A drab little courtyard overgrown with flowering weeds the tenants probably thought were landscaping and a dark door with paint chipping at the corners. So this was Rupert’s flat. How depressingly mundane it looked, at least on the outside.   
  
Ethan sighed. He had no idea what he was doing here in the first place. The man was probably sleeping or some other healthy and wholesome pursuit. Tragic, really, though of course nowhere near as much so as a Chaos Mage standing like a shy schoolboy on the doorstep of the object of calf love.  
  
How have the mighty fallen.  
  
He should go back to his own dwelling and forget this foolishness. He truly should. And he fully intended to do so. But then he remembered: It was important to wake a patient with a head injury every few hours and… well, he could hardly allow Rupert to die, could he?  
  
So, purely in the spirit of unselfish concern, Ethan knocked on the door.  
  
A groggy voice called out “Who’s there?”  
  
He was about to answer when his hand fell on the doorknob and… it turned. Oh, Rupert. An unlocked door? How imprudent. Why _anyone_ might walk in.  
  
Which, of course, was exactly what happened – the ‘anyone’ in this case being Ethan himself. “I came to see how you were faring after that nasty blow to the head you took, old chum.”  
  
  
  
Of all the cheek! Barging into his home bold as brass! Ethan was as rude and impudent as he’d ever been and Giles could only begin to guess what the reason for this unwelcome visit was. After all, he might well be the worse for wear, but he hadn’t sustained nearly enough trauma to believe for a moment that Ethan’s motives were purely friendly. “Why are you here? And please, spare me whatever folderol you concocted by way of a story. I am tired and in no small amount of pain and have no patience for your nonsense.”  
  
Ethan had the temerity to look wounded and Giles snorted – a sound he realized had become rather common on his part since Ethan’s return. “Can’t a friend pay a call out of comradely concern?” Giles couldn’t help it, he snorted again. This was rather a habit and an inelegant one. Damn Ethan!  
  
“Why are you here?” he repeated, arms akimbo as his head throbbed. Xander’s ‘crash helmet’ idea might well have been a clumsy attempt at wit, but it resonated as the basis of a distressingly sound idea. His skull, along with the brain it encased, was sustaining far too much damage. He winced involuntarily and Ethan’s eyes… from anyone else, Giles would have said they evinced a touching sympathy.  
  
From anyone else, that is.  
  
Oh how his head ached.  
  
He closed his eyes for a moment. Would his guest please just state his business and go home?  
  
  
  
Ethan couldn’t help himself. Seeing the poor man suffering – when he wasn’t the cause, at any rate – it melted the heart he often wished he didn’t possess. He reached out and caressed that sadly careworn cheek. “Rupert.” Throwing caution to the wind, he leaned in and softly kissed the man he loved.  
  
Eyes once shut now opened wide, but – to Ethan’s shock and delight – he didn’t immediately push him away. Well, fortune favoured the brave, so Ethan wrapped his arms around the man he loved and deepened the kiss.  
  
Of course, it was at that moment that the priggish ninny Rupert had allowed himself to become began pushing against him like a virginal damsel. “How dare you!” Rupert roared, all wounded dignity and despoiled virtue.  
  
This was becoming obnoxious. Rupert wasn’t the only one who’d had a fatiguing night, why Ethan himself had… all right, he’d done little save feed the leading lady her lines from the wings, but aside from essaying a brief cameo as cannon fodder, what had prissy, useless Rupert done?  
  
He was tired of being treated as if he were beneath contempt and as if his touch were something foul and disgusting. So, without a word, he turned and headed for the door. Ethan Rayne knew when he wasn’t wanted.  
  
His hand was once more on the doorknob when he was stopped cold. Rupert’s hand… it was on his shoulder. “We need to talk.”  
  
Talk? Rupert wanted to talk? After that kiss? But like the sad ponce he’d become, Ethan’s heart gave a little leap and he turned around. “Yes, by all means, let us talk.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Angel was sitting in a chair by the fire, staring into the flames as if there were answers there… and wishing he were holding Willow in his arms. How wonderful it would be if they were celebrating tonight’s victory, cuddled close here by the hearth, sharing kisses…   
  
What did she see in Oz that was so far superior to him? Because from where Angel was sitting, aside from playing bass guitar in a band whose chief product seemed to be noise pollution, Angel was Oz’s better at every endeavour. He was handsomer, smarter, stronger; he was even a more fearsome demon.   
  
So why was it that Willow was so eager to hold fast to her pathetic little swain? Why wouldn’t she even consider the option of being his?  
  
It was that spell, wasn’t it? She didn’t believe his feelings were real because… But it didn’t make sense, because magic _was_ real and what it did was real. What better evidence of that was there than Willow’s defeat of the Mayor? Surely his bones were proof enough for anyone.  
  
A sound… What was that?   
  
Slayer. That’s what his senses told him. Was Buffy…?  
  
Angel shot up from his chair, turned around and…  
  
“See you made repairs to the place. Didn’t change the décor though.”  
  
Faith.  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	38. Chapter 37

Broken Arrow (Chapter 37)  
  
  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
It was a fair question. Angel couldn’t think of a single good reason for Faith to be in his living room.  
  
“Can’t a girl just stop by to say hello?” Her faux innocence was all faux and no innocence and Angel really wished she would just get to the point.  
  
His eyes narrowed and he watched as she sauntered into the center of room and ran her hand over the wood of the sofa, sexualizing every move she made. Was that supposed to gain her the upper hand? Sure, she had the goods and clearly knew what to do with them, but he was over 200 years old. She wasn’t displaying anything he hadn’t seen before.   
  
He sighed in a bored and impatient manner, adding a roll of the eyes for emphasis, and suddenly the sex kitten was gone, replaced by a sullen and petulant Slayer. Good. Now maybe they were getting somewhere. So he asked his question again at somewhat greater length, making his meaning absolutely clear. “We’re not friends, Faith. If there’s a reason for this visit then I’d like to hear it. Otherwise, you know where the door is.”  
  
She looked less pleased than ever, but she finally got down to brass tacks. “I heard you got hexed by Giles’s old flame. Some big love spell turning everything upside down. Must be weird, huh? I mean, one minute you’re all hearts and flowers with B and the next thing you know, you’re chasing after her best friend. Bet you’re looking forward to the day when they fix all this.” Her eyes were fixed on his face now and he could tell he hadn’t been able to play his emotional cards nearly close enough to the vest. What was she up to? “Don’t worry, though. From what I hear, it won’t be long now at all.”  
  
Faith was all smiles now, cat that ate the canary. All right, she had him figured out. She was sharper and more observant than he’d given her credit for – not a mistake he’d make again. But what was her motive? Why did she care?  
  
“Poor B,” she crooned. “No wonder she’s hittin’ the books so hard. It must just eat her up inside, seeing you makin’ eyes at her little geek of a sidekick like she’s the center of the universe. Seeing all the magic and the smarts that B… well, she just doesn’t have. Maybe even liking it better than what you had before. Bet this is the first time anything like that’s ever happened to her. The first time she’s ever stood on the sidelines while someone else got the spotlight.”   
  
Angel fought to keep his reaction off his face. Faith had just told him a lot more than he figured she’d intended to. Jealousy. It all came down to jealousy.  
  
This shouldn’t have surprised him, should it? The fact that it did actually made the point more clear than ever. Because the reason he was surprised was that he hadn’t paid Faith much notice at all. So on that level… yes, he saw some justice in her resentment.  
  
Still, there was another side to it. Because he _had_ noticed bravado and high walls, a well-crafted façade that did the job of convincing everyone that she was a lone wolf by choice – a girl who stayed in the shadows because she liked it better in the dark. Hard to blame people when they believed the lies you told.  
  
But as much as Buffy didn’t deserve to be in Faith’s crosshairs, he was still willing to use Faith’s resentment and envy to his advantage. “Let’s put our cards on the table. You think I’d like things to stay the way they are. I’m guessing you would too. So what do you know? And what can I do about it?”  
  
Faith smiled more brightly than ever and sat down on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, arms behind her head. It looked like Angel now had an eager ally.  
  
  
  
  
  
Giles stood, facing Ethan, and entirely silent. Yes, he’d asked the man to stay so they could talk, but having done so, he had no idea what to say. Why had he done this? Why hadn’t he just let Ethan leave?  
  
It was that kiss, damn it. Not that it _meant_ anything. Heavens no. It was simply that… well… it _had_ been a rather long time since… and Giles was a grown man, with… needs. That was all. That was all this was.   
  
“We… that is to say, I… I need to make something very clear. You and I… we are never going to be involved. Never. Never again.”  
  
Ethan chuckled. He chuckled. The man had the gall… “Did I say something amusing?”  
  
  
  
  
Ethan felt… energized, and more hopeful than ever. “I was well on my way out the door. You didn’t need to keep me here to tell me this… unless of course you don’t mean a word of it.” Which of course, Rupert didn’t. The dear boy was almost blushing. Praise be to whoever looked after Chaos mages.  
  
He stalked, all panther grace, toward Rupert, who stayed right where he was. More proof that this time – at last – Ethan was right. The man he wanted wanted him right back.   
  
Just as Rupert was about to splutter out some pointless denial, Ethan once again made his move.   
  
Their lips met again, and this time the kiss was anything but soft and gentle. No indeed. It was rough and needy and passionate and… everything Ethan had ever dreamt it could be. He was hard as a rock in a trice. “Bedroom,” he panted as his mouth left Rupert’s.  
  
  
  
Giles was in a daze, his lips burning from Ethan’s kiss, and his body… well, it _had_ been a long time, after all, so it was to be expected that… oh hell, he was hard and aching. But Ethan gasping the word ‘bedroom’… “Bedroom? You think we are going to…”  
  
“Well, I could always take you on the sofa, but we’re not as young as we once were and…”  
  
Wait just a moment. “You? Take me?” Ethan was right there, running his hand up Giles’s chest in the most distracting way and “Oh bugger.”  
  
“Precisely what I had in mind, dear boy.”  
  
Giles couldn’t help it; he began to laugh. It was surrender, wasn’t it? He had to admit the truth. “You are the most maddening… but I _have_ missed you, you horrible, horrible man.” He pulled Ethan back to him and kissed him. “But your memories are faulty if you think you’ll be doing the taking.”  
  
Ethan chuckled again. This time it was throaty and sensual and Giles thought his cock would explode. “Anything you like. Any _way_ you like.”   
  
Oh dear. With an offer like that on the table… “We should take this to the bedroom.”  
  
Now.  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	39. Chapter 38

Broken Arrow (Chapter 38)  
  
  
  
At the insistent ring of his alarm, Giles awoke, though he was none too happy about it. He felt sore in ways (and places) he hadn’t been sore in quite a long time and as delightful as last night’s activities had been, he wasn’t sure they were worth the trouble that would ensue.  
  
Ethan. The damnable man was still sleeping peacefully, somehow impervious to the alarm – and wasn’t that a perfect metaphor for his very nature?  
  
He looked almost innocent, didn’t he? Eyes closed, a small smile playing about the corners of his mouth, like a child caught up in a happy dream.  
  
What an utter charade. Even in sleep, the man was deceitful – a master of tricks and fakery.  
  
Yet…  
  
Giles loved him. He did. There was no use lying to himself and pretending otherwise. Rupert Giles loved Ethan Rayne. Had done and always would. No matter what crimes the man committed, how many lives he ruined, how much chaos he unleashed on the world.  
  
No wonder Eros hadn’t bothered. He hadn’t needed to, had he?  
  
With a sigh, and a grimace as movement reminded him of just how unused to this sort of… exercise he was, Giles got out of bed, put on a robe, and padded softly downstairs to make tea. Then he would need to ready himself for another day at the high school.  
  
Oh dear lord. How ever was he going to keep this affair a secret from Buffy?  
  
  
  
  
  
Willow brushed her teeth, feeling guilty about having neglected to do so last night. Buffy had stayed really late, though, and between saving the world, Indian TV, and Ben & Jerry’s, Willow had ended up falling asleep without paying full attention to healthy habits. Guess she was going to have to adjust her schedule and brush earlier if magic was this distracting and tiring, huh?  
  
She was sort of dreading seeing Oz today and for a moment she actually thought of cutting school. Oh god! No, she couldn’t do _that_. How could she even think…?  
  
Had Oz been right? Were spells the slippery slope to badness?  
  
Then she thought about the Mayor and she went right back to how she felt last night. Her magic was there for her to do good deeds with. If she had occasional naughty thoughts, well, she’d just have to keep her moral compass straight and deal with them. Like today. When she most certainly was _not_ going to cut school. Nope. She was going to gird her loins and face her foe…er… boyfriend like a strong and righteous woman.  
  
So she got dressed and then, bookbag on her back, she headed out the door and made her way to Sunnydale High.  
  
One thing, though. Did her smiley face sweater ruin her strong and righteous woman cred?  
  
  
  
  
  
Buffy arrived at school early, kind of hoping to talk to Giles. To her surprise, he wasn’t there. What was up with that? Giles was _always_ early. Giles not being early was exactly like Giles being really late and that gave Buffy a major wiggins.   
  
That wiggins did not go away when he arrived. She gave him a searching look, noticing that he was walking kind of stiffly. “Guess last night really took it out of you, huh?”  
  
“What do you mean?” Okay. The guilty look. What was that about?   
  
“Last night? The battle with Balthazar? Concussion? Any of that ring any bells?”  
  
“Oh yes. Yes, of course. Well, I’m not a Slayer, am I?” Oh god. He looked relieved. Just for a second, but he so did.  
  
Was that because…?  
  
No, she was not going to think about what she just thought about, thank you very much, because there was no way – no _way_ \- that Giles would do that. Well, of course, he was an adult and so he  _would_ do that, just not with… Could she please just never think about Giles and sex again? Ever?  
  
Of course, just when she needed to _not_ be thinking about sex, Cordelia and Xander walked up. Looking suspiciously rumpled. Xander was fidgeting and he seemed fascinated by the poster about good homework habits.  
  
“Hi. Gosh, Buffy. You’re coordinated today. Wow. Nice job.” An almost-compliment from Cordelia? A Xander who wasn’t even looking at her? That clinched it. A quickie in the car before school, clearly. Was _everybody_ having sex but her?  
  
Oh great. She had to have that thought, because that led to…  
  
You know what was even worse than thinking about sex?  
  
Thinking about Angel.  
  
The universe refused to cut her any slack at all.  
  
  
  
Was it wrong that Willow was kind of glad not to see Oz among the group now entering the library? Well, she was. Maybe it was her wardrobe malfunction, but she didn’t feel ready to be strong and righteous after all and she was relieved she might not have to – at least not until she’d snuck some caffeine.   
  
“Hey, guys,” she offered cheerily as she walked in just after they’d all gathered at the tables.  
  
Was it just her or did Cordelia look sort-of-almost-disheveled? “I heard about what you did last night. Killing the Mayor. Good for you!” Willow winced at the word ‘killed’ but then… A compliment? From _Cordelia_? A not-perfectly-coiffed-and straightened Cordelia? Oh god. She and Xander had just had sex or something, hadn’t they?  
  
Cordelia looked down at her skirt and suddenly said, “I need to go… get something from the vending machines.” She hustled out. Willow was positive she was headed for the ladies room and not the snacks, but she said nothing and managed not to giggle.   
  
She was grateful for the distraction, actually. It was nice to think about something that wasn’t world-shaking right now.  
  
Of course, at that precise moment, who should walk in… “Hey, Oz.”  
  
His face was impassive, even when he was close, and – not for the first time, but maybe more now than ever – Willow kinda wished she had a boyfriend with facial expressions. Reading a blank page was hard, no matter how high your SAT scores. “Can we go somewhere? Talk?”  
  
She wanted to say no, because she was still caffeine-free and not feeling very empowered, but since she _was_ caffeine-free and not very empowered, she didn’t have the gumption to say no, so she followed him out of the library.   
  
Buffy’s sympathetic glance was all the extra ammo she’d been given and it didn’t feel like much as she stood in the Cordelia-less lounge, staring at the vending machines, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  
  
It did, but it wasn’t the shoe she’d expected. “I… the Dingoes… we just got this opportunity to go play some gigs in Seattle. There’s still cool stuff happening there and… But I was gonna say no. I haven’t even told the guys yet. I can still say no…”  
  
His eyes met hers and she wanted to kick him. Was he putting this on her, making this some kind of test? No, he wasn’t like that. She was definitely being unfair. But still… she wasn’t going to be the bad witch here. Plus… his dreams. They were all about music and she knew, even if he wasn’t sure, that he _was_ sure, he just needed to figure that out. “You should go. This kind of opportunity… I mean, I’m not like this music-business-person, but I know that there aren’t that many big breaks, and this could be one and…” There were tears in her eyes and no caffeine in her bloodstream and she was wearing a smiley-face sweater but she was being strong and righteous after all. “You’ll be able to manage the full moon thing, right?”  
  
He nodded. “You’re quite the human,” he said softly before placing a soft kiss on her forehead.   
  
It felt like goodbye.  
  
When he left the room, Willow sat down at a table and began to sob.  
  
  
  
  
  
“Thanks, Roger. I’m sure the kids up there are gonna love them.”  
  
Angel hung up the phone, smiling. Guess he owed Faith for talking so much about Oz’s identity as a so-called musician, but he still wondered why hadn’t he thought of this earlier.  
  
Maybe because he was so used to thinking of ‘getting rid’ of someone in demonic terms and that was something he was no longer willing to do. He still had his soul, no matter what. Besides, he didn't hate the boy. He just wanted him out of Willow's life.   
  
This, though? This was the perfect solution. All done with a simple phone call to a man whose life he’d saved back in New York. No blood, no bodies, and yet… In a day or two, Oz would be far away and as absent from Willow’s life as if he were dead.  
  
Now all that remained was to be shocked when he heard the news.  
  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	40. Chapter 39

Broken Arrow (Chapter 39)  
  
  
  
Buffy had never slain a werewolf before, but there was always a first time and she was this close to making Oz that one. How could he? Seattle? It was cold. Anyway, did he really think the Dingoes were going to be this year’s Nirvana? And even if they were, look at how Kurt Cobain had wound up. Was it a sensible aspiration?  
  
Willow was better than a million Courtney Love’s, too.  
  
She sat next to her sobbing friend, wondering how many mochas it would take to see her smile again and figuring there probably weren’t that many in the whole world. Still… “Let’s cut out of here, okay? Not like you haven’t already nailed the college of your choice. You need caffeine therapy.”  
  
The sobs turned into sniffles and Willow fixed a watery kind-of-smile on Buffy. Hallelujah. It wasn’t problem-solved, but it was a start.  
  
Xander came and put his arm around Willow for a moment. “He’s an idiot.” Which, granted, was true, but not the right thing to say, because Willow burst into a fresh wave of tears. Boys. They needed to leave situations like this to the professionals.  
  
Meaning girls.  
  
A glare at Xander followed by male confusion and a returning glare from Cordelia, who also felt the need to put her two cents in. “What? Xander’s right. Oz is an idiot. Everyone knows that Seattle is so over.” Oh god. Cordelia might as well be a guy for all she knew about comforting someone. Did she really think Willow would feel better if Oz dumped her for nothing?   
  
She shot a glance at Giles, who thankfully stayed out of it, and grabbed Willow by the arm. “C’mon. We’re going to the Espresso Pump.”  
  
  
  
Had anyone ever had a better best friend? Willow didn’t think so.  
  
As Buffy practically carried her out of the library, she was grateful that she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone else anymore. Xander meant well, but she didn’t want to listen to him calling Oz names. Oz had a dream, that was all, and following your dreams meant making sacrifices. Okay, it sucked that _she_ was the sacrifice on this occasion, but hey, as someone who’d almost been burned at the stake by her own Mom, she was kind of used to the idea and at least this time she wasn’t on fire.  
  
Well, not literally anyway.  
  
Even though they’d been having problems lately, she still loved Oz and losing him hurt. It hurt a lot.  
  
There was silence until they got off campus. Phew. They hadn’t been caught by either Snyder or one of his minions. “I really hope they get a record deal,” she said softly. She meant it, too. Someday soon, she wanted to turn on the radio and hear a Dingoes song.  
  
“They will.” Buffy put her arm around her and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “They totally will.”  
  
She sighed, accepting that this was the end and yeah, she and Oz weren’t she and Oz anymore. “Buffy?” she began, not quite sure how to ask her question. “Is it okay if I make my mocha a double?”  
  
  
  
  
  
Giles had a headache. A horrible, crashing headache. How could he not? Between his own affair, Willow's heartbreak, and last night's concussion… but oh the pain. Normally a spot of brandy was his remedy of choice, but sadly, it was still morning and besides, he was on school grounds and drinking was inappropriate.   
  
Perhaps a jelly would do instead.  
  
Of course, unlike Buffy and Willow, he couldn’t very well up and leave the campus on a whim, even if it wasn’t so much a whim as a genuine medical emergency, so he wracked his brain and finally remembered that there was sometimes a cache of doughnuts in the cafeteria kitchen. Praise be.  
  
How to get at them, however, since that rather forbiddingly scowling lunch lady was sure to be there.   
  
Well, his good manners and British accent had stood him in good stead before; with any luck they would do so now. So he headed down the corridor and, with a jaunty air, opened the door to the kitchen, prepared to be charming – though not _too_ charming, lest that hideous woman get the wrong idea.  
  
But instead of the key to the jelly he desperately needed, he saw…  
  
There was no mistaking the rather large skull and crossbones on the box being emptied into what he suspected was the students’ lunch. He was wearing his glasses, after all.  
  
“Dear Lord! What are you doing?”  
  
It was entirely possible that alerting the woman to his presence had not been the wisest course of action because she turned on him with a murderous glare in her eyes.  
  
Oh no. What was he going to do now?  
  
“I say. Fascinating recipe you’re trying there. Something from a 19th century cookbook, I’d wager.”  
  
He could almost hear Buffy chiding him now. ‘ _That’s_ your plan?’ Her point would be well taken at that, because his words seemed not to have had an effect, or the desired effect, at any rate. The lunch lady lunged at him.  
  
Thank heavens he’d trained with Buffy recently.  
  
Neatly sidestepping the woman, he allowed her to crash into the wall... which sent her and the box of poison tumbling to the ground. He turned away without breathing any of the substance in, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and holding it over his nose.  
  
When he turned back, her face was covered in deadly powder.  
  
For a moment, he considered leaving her to her just desserts, but he wasn’t that sort. No, even such as she deserved some measure of mercy.  
  
Hastening from the room, he was surprised to find a police officer. Well, he was hardly one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Please. Officer. Can you get an ambulance here right away? There’s been… well, the lunch lady seems to have been attempting to poison the cafeteria food but she has had a mishap with the poison and she’s in quite a bad state.”  
  
The man appeared to be gobsmacked. “What is it with this school? First some kid with a gun and now poisoned food?”  
  
A gun?  
  
Now Giles was the one who was gobsmacked. He wasn’t going to stick around, however. “A gun? Oh yes. Well, I had better go check on my students and make sure they’re all right.”  
  
“Your students?”   
  
“Yes. I’m the librarian and there are students in the library and… Please summon that ambulance, would you?”  
  
With that, he hurried off, thankfully not pursued by anything but the sound of the officer calling for help on his radio.  
  
He was still rather shocked. A gun. Someone had been caught with a gun. Really? Of course he could understand stakes and axes and that sort of thing. With all the demons in this town, that manner of weaponry made perfect sense. But firearms? Why on Earth would anyone bring such things to school?  
  
Well, he was sure to find out later. He'd done his part today. For now he’d retreat to the library for some peace and quiet.  
  
Damn it. He still had that headache.  
  
  
  
  
  
Willow was on her third mocha and she was starting to understand the concept of drowning your sorrows. Okay, she was still sad, but at least she felt pretty perky. She reached across the table and put her hand over Buffy’s. “Thanks.”  
  
It occurred to her that Buffy was being a way better friend to her than _she’d_ been lately and Willow vowed that from this moment on, she’d try to do better. Because it wasn’t like she was the only heartbroken girl at this table.  
  
Even on a caffeine buzz, though, she was smart enough to think first and not mention that. Buffy could probably do without the reminder. Instead, she asked, “Think we’re missing anything at school?”  
  
“Nah.” Buffy dismissed the idea scornfully. “Maybe one of Mr. Lewis’s pop quizzes. That’s about it.”  
  
Just then the barista turned up the volume on the TV behind the counter. A news bulletin was interrupting the usual soap opera. “Police and emergency personnel are gathered at Sunnydale High where a student has just been arrested for bringing a gun to school. No word yet on who his intended targets were. And the school librarian is being hailed as a hero for stopping a mass poisoning attempt by a longtime cafeteria employee. Our own Lacey Jackson is there with the librarian. Lacey?”  
  
Oh god. There was Giles! Looking awkward and uncomfortable and trying to get away from the interviewer and… “I guess maybe we missed stuff, huh?”  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	41. Chapter 40

Broken Arrow (Chapter 40)  
  
  
  
“You should have taken off your glasses. The reflection? It looked terrible on camera. Besides, glasses just aren’t attractive whether you’re gay or not.”  
  
Thank you, Cordelia. Buffy rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to her, Giles. Plenty of …” Which was he? There was… don’t think about him, but there was also Ms. Calendar, so… Okay, be safe, Buffy. “…people find glasses distinguished.”  
  
“I do,” Willow chimed in and Buffy’s eyes narrowed. Her mind instantly went to the ewww place. Please no. She was already dealing with way too much. Then Willow added, “Lacey Jackson sure seemed to think so, too.” Phew. Except…  
  
The idea of Giles dating a reporter wasn’t too appealing. What if she got all ambitious and investigative and…  
  
A voice came from the doorway. “Hail the conquering hero.”  
  
Scratch her earlier thoughts. Buffy was completely on board the Giles and Lacey train.   
  
Scowling at Ethan Rayne, she demanded, “What are you doing here?”  
  
“Can’t a fellow come to check on a friend? A friend who clearly had quite a day of it.” There was something funny about the way Ethan said ‘friend’ and… oh god. Giles was blushing. He was. She chanced a quick glare at Giles. They were so going to have a talk later. This was completely unacceptable. It was even worse than when he’d been all googly with her Mom.  
  
Thank God at least _they_ hadn’t had sex.  
  
At least she didn’t think they had.  
  
And yes, she was going to keep right on believing that, too. Her mental health was at stake.  
  
  
  
Giles couldn’t even meet Ethan’s eyes. Damn him for showing up here. Did he want the world to know?   
  
What a foolish question. Of course he did. Cheeky, impudent, horrid… Oh bugger it. “It wasn’t nearly as heroic as it was made to sound.” But no, he was not going to discuss the part where his defeat of the poisoner all came about because of his search for a jelly.  
  
“I am still traumatized by Jonathan and the gun,” Cordelia chimed in. Giles saw Buffy roll her eyes at the same time he did. Good thing there was at least some accord still between them. They clearly agreed that Cordelia was addicted to self-dramatization.  
  
Xander, of course, saw her remark far differently, gazing at her softly and saying, “I would have taken a bullet for you.”  
  
That boy had it rather badly, didn’t he?   
  
It might even have been mutual since Cordelia turned to him and kissed him gently on the cheek then went mercifully quiet. Ah, young love. So simple and uncomplicated.  
  
Then his eyes fell on Ethan. Love was nothing like that now.  
  
He remembered last night and nearly blushed again. No, love was no longer simple or uncomplicated, but it had its charms.  
  
“I saw you with that Lacey Jackson creature. Did she give you her number?”   
  
Dear Lord. Was Ethan really… ? He was jealous! The man was actually jealous. Giles’s manly ego swelled a bit. How long had it been since anyone had been jealous over him? Perhaps he could have a bit of fun with this… after all, Ms. Jackson had in fact… “Yes, she did. Do you think I should call her?”  
  
  
  
Ethan was fuming. Damn Rupert. Flirting with that Jackson woman, even accepting her number! How dare he! After last night he’d thought… but wait. Rupert was stifling a chuckle, wasn’t he?  
  
Games. He was playing games with Ethan’s feelings. Of all the unmitigated..  
  
Oh well. Ethan supposed he deserved a bit of that after the games _he’d_ played. Rupert was forgiven. Besides, the making up later would be delicious.  
  
It was then that he noticed a figure enter the library. If it wasn’t the Slayer’s one-time paramour. “Angel,” he said cheerily, “How nice of you to join us. Did you hear about all the goings-on today?”  
  
  
  
What was Angel doing here? And why was he looking at her? Willow had hoped last night… but no, guess she’d been too optimistic. The spell wasn’t fading on its own, was it? So now she felt kind of uncomfortable. Maybe it was because she was single again – not that Angel knew that, but sooner or later he was going to find out. Oz not being around anymore would be kind of a clue.   
  
“Hi,” she said finally, when no one else spoke. Oh gosh. Buffy looked sad. Willow shouldn’t have said anything. It was just…  
  
She remembered the night right here in the library when she and Angel had talked, and the night in the bungalow when they’d also talked before… well, before stuff that should never have happened happened.   
  
It had been nice, okay? He’d listened and said kind things and lots of interesting things and if circumstances were different, she’d totally want to talk to him about what just happened with Oz and…  
  
Why was everything so complicated? Why did Ethan have to shoot that stupid arrow?  
  
  
  
Tough room, Angel realized as he perused the sea of unwelcoming faces, but nothing he couldn’t handle. At least as long as he kept up the pretense of not knowing about Oz decamping for Seattle. That would be easy, After all, thanks to a tip from his new partner, he did have a legitimate reason for being here. “I heard there was a gunman at the school today. Are you all alright?”  
  
“How did you hear about that?” Buffy seemed skeptical and belatedly he realized why. Damn it. The last thing he wanted was to let on that he was in communication with Faith.  
  
What should he say?   
  
It was then that he recalled Spike leaving something behind. “I heard it on the radio a few minutes ago.” Come to think of it, he ought to forget about whose it was and listen to that radio. He liked music. Oh, not that noise Oz’s so-called band played, but real music. There had to be some of that on at least one station. “I thought I should get here as fast as I could. Wanted to make sure you had any help if you needed it.”   
  
He let his gaze pan the whole group. Making it clear that he was being altruistic and talking about lending his aid to all of them.  
  
Everyone, including Buffy, seemed to believe his explanation. She had an almost wistful look on her face, but at least it appeared she was finally beginning to accept that she wasn’t the center of his world any longer.  
  
“We’re okay. The police got a tip about Jonathan and Giles handled the lunch lady – and the TV interview. No casualties.”  
  
“I’m glad.” Some awkward silence followed and he noticed that Ethan was eyeing him shrewdly. Now there was a wild card for you. What was the man’s agenda now? And what was he doing here?   
  
Somehow Angel doubted that he was going to find out. No one seemed inclined to tell him much. But having established his concern, he looked around again, feigning a bit of confusion. Now seemed like it might be a good time to ask an important question after all. “Where’s Oz?”  
  
He maintained his confusion as Willow looked stricken for a moment before answering. “He and the Dingoes have a gig.”  
  
Angel nodded, accepting her explanation at face value, knowing that no further information was forthcoming. “Bet he’ll be sorry he missed the fireworks.” Buffy’s eyes narrowed as she looked at him, but he pretended not to notice and her expression soon changed back to melancholy acceptance. Good. If he had so lost his edge that he couldn’t deceive a Slayer? It wouldn’t be long before he was dust.  
  
“So, since there’s really no reason for you to be here, why don’t you just go home?” Ah, Cordelia. Angel wasn’t the only one glaring at her after that outburst, but she was undaunted, and in fact she continued. “What? I’m the _only_ one who’s sick of watching him act all moon-eyed over Willow? Please. It’s gross. And now that Oz is moving to Seattle, it’s only going to get worse.”  
  
What do you know? Xander’s bimbo had a reason for existence after all. He almost wanted to thank her for doing the honours and spilling the beans. With what he was sure was a very credible expression of shock on his face, he turned… to Buffy. “Oz is leaving town?”  
  
As Xander grumbled under his breath at Cordelia and Willow looked so stricken that Angel wanted to carry her off and console her, he noticed that everyone seemed to accept that he was absolutely as surprised as he should be.  
  
Everyone, that was, save for that small man still assessing him with sharp, twinkling eyes.  
  
Ethan Rayne.  
  
Angel was going to have to have a chat with that guy.  
  
Soon.  
  
  
  
To be continued…


	42. Chapter 41

Broken Arrow (Chapter 41)

 

Willow sat at her computer, six windows open, feeling the burden of failure more with every fruitless click and false lead. Why couldn’t she find anything? She’d never failed so miserably at anything in her life.

Well, anything that wasn’t sports-related, anyway. 

Those volleyball memories still stung.

And no, she wasn’t going to even _think_ about dodgeball. That wasn’t even a sport. It was institutionalized sadism and probably child abuse and it should definitely be illegal and…

Getting sidetracked wasn’t going to help. She checked her email, even though she hadn’t gotten a notice of anything new. After all, sometimes there were glitches. Right? But nope. No glitch. Nothing new. 

Darn. She’d really been hoping to hear from someone on the _Gods Among Us_ board. They were the closest thing to a promising source she’d found so far. At least the people there seemed to take the idea of gods seriously and be willing to try and find answers to the cautious initial questions she’d worked up the courage to ask. That was something.

Not much, considering she’d gone there two days ago and had heard nothing since, but still… something.

Ethan Rayne’s books sure weren’t much help, that was for sure. In fact, she was convinced he’d only used them as a ruse to spend more time with Giles. He didn’t care about reversing his stupid spell at all. 

That spell! Why would he even do that spell? Sure, she’d sort of considered using magic if MIT hadn’t accepted her, but that was a college, not someone she wanted to have fall in love with her. How could you use magic to try and influence love? Wouldn’t it be meaningless then? Oz was leaving town and Willow hadn’t even considered using magic to try and make him stay.

And no, that did not have a single thing to do with kissing Angel. Angel was Buffy’s man and right now Willow was on a single-minded quest to undo the spell and didn’t that prove…?

Okay, someone was knocking at her balcony doors. Oz! It had to be Oz, right? Who else would it be? He must have decided to stop by and say goodbye before leaving town.

She jumped up, hurried to the doors, flung them open and… “Angel? What are you doing here?”

 

Not exactly the greeting Angel had hoped for, but he wasn’t unprepared for it either, so he kept his disappointment from showing in his expression and said, “I just wanted to see if you were okay.” She looked skeptical. He’d expected that too and he was prepared. “Look, I know you know how I feel, but before…” He paused, feigning awkwardness. “We were friends, right? And I hope that, no matter what, we still are. I know how you feel about Oz and I’m… I really am sorry that you’re going through this right now. I mean that.”

One of the things he loved most about Willow was her innate inclination to believe the best of people, no matter what, and that quality didn’t fail him now. She searched his visage for a brief moment – Buffy having tried to inculcate some sort of cynicism in her to keep her safe – but she didn’t find it and she favoured him with a soft, sad smile. 

“Thanks. I… I kinda thought you might be him.”

Of course she did. Again, disappointing but not surprising. “I know.”

Tears were welling up in her eyes and he longed to kiss them away. Not yet. Soon, though. After all, now that the field was clear…

The doorbell rang. Damn it. His senses told him exactly who was here. After all, demons always knew when other demons were about. He said nothing, however, and watched as Willow became confused and flustered. “I better go see who that is.”

It was clear she expected him to leave by the way she looked at the balcony doors and then back at him, but he played dumb and sat in the chair by her bed. The doorbell rang again and she finally gave up, heading down to answer the door with a nearly-whispered, “I’ll be right back.”

He knew better. Calf love farewells always dragged on and on. What to do in the meantime? His eyes fell on her computer. He’d been paying quite a bit of attention to her as she worked and he knew enough to at least be able to look at what she was doing and put everything back the way it was currently arranged, so…

Yes, he was invading her privacy. Perhaps he should feel guilty about it, but since what she was likely doing had more than a little to do with him, he didn’t. Instead, he went and sat in the chair at her desk and perused the windows she had open.

Bullseye. She was indeed looking at websites about spells and gods and it was a wonder she didn’t need eyeglasses. The colour schemes on two of them were garish enough to give _him_ a headache. Especially _The Goddess of Love and Her Acolytes_. How could you take anything written in flickering glittery pink letters seriously?

 

 

Willow reached the front door, wondering who it could be. No one ever rang her doorbell. Well, even if it was a vampire, they couldn’t come in without an invitation, so she opened the door and… “Oz.”

“Hey.”

She was really confused. Why was he…?

“The guys are all waiting in the van. We’re heading out. I wanted to say goodbye.”

Seeing him glance back… everything was real now in a way it hadn’t been and it hurt. All the conflict over magic and fluking and what would happen when college became an issue… it all disappeared and what was left was the first person who’d ever said he loved her standing in front of her for the last time. This was really it and there was nothing she could do except accept it and try to pretend that she didn’t suddenly feel old and lost. “Wanna come in for a minute?” Well, delaying the inevitable. That was actually a something she could do, huh?

He looked back at the van again, but then he said “Yeah” and followed her into the living room.

They sat on the couch and… silence. That didn’t seem right. There was supposed to be something said, wasn’t there? Something quotable just like in a John Hughes movie. But Willow didn’t have a screenwriter on call. All she had were nerves thanks to a vampire in her bedroom and heartache because… Oz. 

So they sat on the couch and after a few seconds, Oz took her hand and then… they just sat and stared at each other. She couldn’t even hear the ticking of the clock on the mantel. Just a silence that threatened to swallow the world.

 

 

Angel sat at the computer, ever alert for the sound of approaching footsteps, when a sudden voice startled him. “You have mail.” He looked around and realized it came from the computer. For a moment he waited, wondering if it had carried to human or lupine ears, but no footsteps came and so… yes, he gave in and opened her mailbox and saw…

“Heard you needed help with Eros.”

Clicking the email, Angel read it quickly and was glad he had. Someone from a message board called _Gods Among Us_ had contacted this man and he had written and… He seemed to be quite informed and not at all a mental defective or teenage dabbler. No, Angel would bet everything he had that this was an adept and one who might well be able to undo… Wait a minute. The man also wrote that he was leaving town on important business in a week and needed to hear from Willow right away if he was going to help her.

Well, no one could reply to an email they never received. 

Delete.

Then he remembered Willow doing something else to cover her tracks at the school library. He found the icon that resembled a trash can and hit Empty.

That took care of that. He proceeded to set the computer back the way he’d found it and then went back to the chair by the bed. This was where he’d wait for his love to come back.

A moment later, he heard the front door close again and the sound of a car pulling away. It was then that he heard Willow’s footsteps approaching the room.

She opened the door, looking sad and lost and he decided that the best course of action would be… “I’m guessing that was Oz, huh?” She nodded. “You probably want to be alone right now. Maybe call Buffy. So I’ll go.”

While she looked puzzled, she also looked grateful. Well-played, Angel m’boy. With that, he took his leave, exiting with the happy knowledge that Willow saw him in a positive light. That was a foundation on which castles might be built. 

Add to that the spanner he’d been able to throw in the works of the reversal and he was feeling quite optimistic indeed.

What do you know? Werewolves had their uses after all

After tonight’s events, he really hoped Oz’s band found success in Seattle. After all, the boy had done him quite a good turn.

With a spring in his step, Angel headed home.

 

 

To be continued…


	43. Chapter 42

Broken Arrow (Chapter 42)

 

Giles walked through the door of his flat, not the least bit surprised to see Ethan there, lounging on the sofa, drinking a glass of what he just knew was his very best scotch. “Do make yourself at home, would you?”

Ethan chuckled. It was a low, throaty sound that went straight… well, to the part of Giles’s anatomy that made rational thought rather more difficult than he’d like. “What’s that ridiculous saying? Home is where the heart is? Well, I’m home.”

Managing a roll of his eyes, Giles conceded defeat. The man was here to stay… and Giles had to admit he was rather glad of it. Still, he had no idea how he was going to tell Buffy.

“I take it your bags are in the bedroom?”

“My belongings are all unpacked, Rupert. Not being a laundress, I made sure my shirts and such were all safely in the closet before becoming hopelessly wrinkled and requiring ironing.”

“Did any of this require displacing _my_ clothing?”

“Now would I be so ungracious?”

Should he even dignify Ethan’s question with a response? Hardly. Instead, he simply made his way upstairs to check the state of his wardrobe for himself.

 

Rupert’s figure hadn’t suffered a bit – well not to any degree worth mentioning – in all these years and Ethan cast an admiring glance at the cut of the man’s jib as he walked away. 

Of course, he should probably be offended that Rupert was off to check on his belongings for fear that they’d been grossly mishandled. What a graceless and unpleasant way to welcome him to his new home. Did his dear boy really believe he’d be so careless and lacking in good manners? Ethan felt quite unfairly maligned. 

Taking another sip of the really quite delightful scotch, he decided in the end to let the matter drop. After all, the poor man was under such stress. That unpleasantness with the lunch lady, his recent concussion, and of course the regrettable business of Eros refusing to be a sport and reverse the spell on Angel. No wonder Rupert was grumpy and a bit cross.

The man surely could do with some comforting.

He cast his eyes to the staircase and then back to his glass. The scotch would keep. For now, he was off to offer succor and solace to his new housemate.

 

 

“And just to add a fresh layer of awful to my life? I’m pretty sure Giles is… dating that creepy Ethan Rayne!” It was a testament to just how badly she needed to talk to _someone_ that Buffy was spilling her guts to her Mom. Not like she could call Willow. Her best friend was nursing a freshly-broken heart. 

The moment the words left her mouth, though, she regretted it. Her Mom was laughing. _Laughing_.

“What’s so funny?”

“You were joking, right? About Giles and some… man.”

Buffy sighed. “Mom. I get that you and he did the whole ‘second childhood’ thing together because of that candy – candy which, by the way, Ethan Rayne was responsible for – but yes, Giles and that guy used to have a thing and now I’m positive they have a thing again.”

The colour drained completely from her Mom’s face.

Okay, she got that Mom would find it a little weird, but that wasn’t her ‘a little weird’ face, that was… Oh god, no. No, no, no, no! “Tell me you and Giles did not have sex!”

An immediate and vigorous head-shaking was her response. “Why would you even think that?”

And you know that denial would be so much more credible if her Mom wasn’t looking everywhere but at Buffy’s eyes.

She was going to be sick.

No. No she wasn’t. Because her Mom would not lie to her. She wouldn’t. The eye thing was just embarrassment at being asked about sex by her nosey teenage daughter. Right? Right.

That settled it. Giles and Mom had not had sex. All was as it should be with Buffy’s world. “So? Any leftovers? I’m kind of hungry after slayage.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. There’s some chicken in the fridge. Want me to heat it up for you?”

Without waiting for an answer, her Mom rushed from the room.

She flashed back to Angel leaving her all alone in the Italian restaurant.

It wasn’t the same, not at all, but… Why was her life all about short, choppy sentences and unfinished business and… this? This having to play games and make believe and pretend that she didn’t know what she knew?

Being the Slayer was disturbing enough. Couldn’t she please have a refuge?

 

 

Willow sat at her computer, clicking mindlessly. She needed a break from fruitless searches and frustration. When she closed her eyes, she could see Oz’s van pulling away from the curb.

When she closed her eyes, she was in the library, listening to Angel tell stories of William Burroughs and the alleys of New York.

Why? Why did she have to think about that? Okay, yes, it had been nice to just sit and listen and not have silences she felt obligated to fill and to have someone get her way of seeing things, not that Oz didn’t get her, it was just…

Her thoughts were all tangled and it was a lot like being trapped in jungle vines and quicksand and about to be suffocated by the weight of all that mud and… her internal metaphors were creepy and depressing, weren’t they? Xander might have had a point when he accused her of having too many thoughts.

No, her email hadn’t pinged.

Guess _Gods Among Us_ was one more dead end.

Was this her punishment for liking the whole friendship thing with Angel? Because if it was, it didn’t make sense. After all, the way things were now… well, he still wanted to be friends and then some and she… no, no, she didn’t want the ‘and then some’, even if he kinda _was_ a very good kisser, because that so meant nothing at all because Oz was the love of her life so far and maybe forever and… Oh goody, she was back in quicksand.

Weren’t you supposed to lie on your back or something to get out of it?

That was it. That was the answer. Lying on her back. In bed. Going to sleep. That would do the trick. Then she could dream about Oz and wake up miserable, but for all the right reasons, which was good, even if it would feel bad, because she’d feel a whole lot worse if… Augh! She all but raced for the bathroom to brush her teeth and change into her PJ’s. The sooner she was unconscious, the better.

 

 

The logs glowed low and warm in the fireplace and Angel lounged on the sofa. All that was missing was Willow here to nestle against him on the sofa. It wouldn’t be long, though. He closed his eyes, remembering the way she’d felt in his arms, yes, but also… the conversations they’d shared. It had been amazing – sharing his tales of the people he’d met without fear of recrimination… or having to explain who they were. Buffy wasn’t stupid by any means, but she wasn’t intellectual, not the way Willow was, and having to spell out who William Burroughs was would have made the anecdote almost pointless in the telling. 

Then there was his life – his human life – the life he’d felt surprisingly comfortable opening up to Willow about. That was such a new experience for him. Her acceptance and empathy had helped lay a good many ghosts to rest. Odd how letting go of pieces of his human past made him feel… no, not more human, but… something. Something settled and whole.

Was he wrong then for wanting to hold onto this? For being willing to act in ways that might not be entirely ethical in order to prevent this from being ripped away? It wasn’t as if he was killing anyone or even hurting them. Not really. He and Buffy had always been doomed. Letting her go was a kindness. As for Willow… Oz wasn’t right for her and that would have been true even if the spell hadn’t opened his eyes, and his heart, to her charms.

Still…

No, he wasn’t going to give in to regret and guilt, not when he’d done nothing essentially wrong. When all was said and done, everyone would be happy and that was what mattered.

Remind him to build an altar to Eros when the drama was over. The god would deserve no less. 

 

 

To be continued…


	44. Chapter 43

Broken Arrow (Chapter 43)

 

Sleep hadn’t exactly been the refuge Willow was seeking. Instead, she awoke feeling guilty and ashamed and full of self-hatred.

Because she’d had dreams about Angel.

In her defense, they hadn’t actually been _naughty_ or anything. You could almost call them platonic.

Except for the kissing.

And the hands.

Oh god. They were so very _not_ platonic.

Even though intellectually she knew that dreams were just dreams and she had no control over them, in her heart she felt like a brazen hussy – a skanky ho. How could she do this to Buffy, her best friend? To Oz, the boyfriend who was barely an ex? To… to herself? 

She’d love to blame this on Ethan Rayne, but she hadn’t exactly led a spotless life prior to this spell, had she? Nope. She’d fluked with Xander – and not that long ago, either.

Maybe she _was_ a skanky ho.

Oh no. Was this her life from now on? Sleeping with professors in college? Having liaisons in research labs or offices wherever she worked? Wrecking marriages? Wasn’t she a little… geeky for this kind of thing? Shouldn’t she at least have bigger boobs or something?

Okay, that last was a really sexist, stereotypical, and demeaning observation and she regretted it immediately. She was a feminist and she of all people should know better than to judge women based on their appearance. 

Guess that meant she wasn’t too geeky after all, huh? Welcome to Hussyville, Ms. Rosenberg.

But what if she didn’t want to _be_ a hussy? Didn’t she have a choice? Or was this like Buffy being the Slayer and she was just stuck with it?

She grabbed her pillow and put it over her face. Life was depressing and she wished she didn’t have to face it. She did, though, so eventually she took the pillow away and got up. Time to get ready for school. 

Where she’d see Buffy.

Oh goody.

 

 

Giles stood in the kitchen, sipping tea, and wondering how his life had become… well, what it had become. His former-turned-current lover Ethan Rayne was upstairs in the bed which had gone from his to theirs without so much as a by-your-leave and he was, he realized, going to have to tell the children what was happening.

While he dreaded Cordelia’s sharp and caustic tongue, what he dreaded even more would be the look of betrayal in Buffy’s eyes. Because this _was_ a betrayal, wasn’t it? Perhaps not so odious as the Cruciamentum, but… For all that he’d been wont to feel superior to Hank Summers, he was hard-pressed to…

Oh dear Lord. Joyce. How on Earth would _she_ react to the news?

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, willing away the headache that threatened.

Sadly, he was thwarted by the presence of the source of his woes. “Good morning, Rupert. Did you sleep well?” Ethan’s grin was pure sex and Giles hated himself for wanting to kiss him.

“What sleep I got,” he replied, regretting it immediately. Damn that smug expression on Ethan’s face.

And yes, he still wanted to kiss him.

“You do snore, you know,” he said instead.

 

Snore? How dare Rupert accuse him of anything so inelegant! He ought to move out after such effrontery. But no, he was besotted with the cruel man, so he would forgive the libelous barb and here he would stay. Looking around the rather drab kitchen – and out into the even sadder parlour – he did decide, however, “We must do something about the décor. No home of mine can be this dismal.”

Naturally, Rupert had the cheek to take offense, but Ethan quickly stepped in and stopped him from saying a word. “You cannot tell me that that tatty pile of misshapen fabric and framework which seems to pass for a sofa holds some sentimental value. Please, Rupert. How can you retain your dignity after sitting on the horrid thing?”

Point taken, fortunately, at least if his dear boy’s expression and silence were any indication, so Ethan continued. “I have some perfectly wonderful things in my flat back in London. Of course, there’s the issue of shipping them here, but you can take care of that, can’t you?” Ethan would be damned if he… well, he _was_ , more than likely, already damned, but that was beside the point. He was not going to drain his own accounts to make up for Rupert’s hideous deficiencies in taste. The man could keep looking askance at him all he liked, Ethan was standing firm on this.

A staring match ensued – one could hardly expect otherwise – but in the end, equally expected, Ethan emerged victorious. Rupert’s sigh was the white flag of surrender. “I shall make some calls to shipping agencies.”

“Well, now that we’ve settled that business…” He raised an eyebrow at Rupert, hoping he would take the hint and return with him to that bedroom he would be decorating with superiour furnishings, and none too soon. Good heavens, right now the man didn’t even have proper bedposts! That was certainly… limiting to the activities in which they could indulge. He thought with a pang of his silk scarves… and his handcuffs, none of which could be put to proper use at this time.

That didn’t mean, however, that they couldn’t have a pleasant time. He raised his eyebrow again and tilted his head slightly in the direction of the staircase. 

“I have to get dressed and go to work. You do realize it’s a weekday? School is in session? I am a school librarian, therefore…”

Ethan winced. How had he ever fallen in love with such a man? “You are so bourgeois, Rupert, but very well. Go mentor the youth of this fair city. Teach them of the glories of the written word. I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.”

Rupert had the nerve to roll his eyes at Ethan’s more than kindly worded concession to his ridiculous choice of work over pleasure. But again, he let it pass and watched as Giles headed back upstairs alone… to garb himself in that horrific tweed and toddle off to babysit the bratlings.

The whole day alone. How ever was Ethan going to pass the time?

Then it came to him. And he smiled. Now that he was a resident of Sunnydale, it would behoove him to make calls on the local gentry, as it were. 

He knew exactly who to visit first.

 

 

It was early. Far earlier than Angel expected to be awake, but he could feel the presence of someone in his house and it woke him immediately. Grabbing a robe and throwing it on to cover his customary nudity, he hurried downstairs.

What a surprise. 

Ethan Rayne.

This was actually somewhat welcome, though Angel would have preferred to set the circumstances more to his own advantage. 

Of course, as a demon, it wasn’t hard to use his instincts to guide him into the catbird seat. He waited, letting the other man make the first move.

He didn’t have to wait long. “Oh, Angel. This place. Granted, some of the antiques are fine as such things go, but really. Did you have to create such an utterly clichéd environment? The ambience is so… Hammer, circa 1971. I expect Ingrid Pitt to come slinking down the staircase. If I were a vampire, I’d live somewhere incongruous. A Cliff May house, perhaps. Or Saarinen. And have the whole place furnished in true minimalist fashion, perhaps with Kaare Klint chairs and such. You might consider it, you know. It would be deliciously unexpected.”

What was it with visitors critiquing his décor? First Faith and now this guy? 

Silence and a blank expression was all he allowed himself by way of reply. He had a hunch Rayne wasn’t here to play Architectural Digest.

It seemed he was right on that score. “I suppose you wonder what I’m doing here.” Angel shrugged slightly, but maintained a blasé air. “Well, I have a hunch that you rather like things as they are and would prefer that the spell not be reversed.” The man paused dramatically and Angel wanted to throttle him. Get to the point! But he stayed stone-faced and eventually Rayne continued. “I also have a feeling you’re behind that business of Miss Rosenberg’s lupine swain and his sudden opportunity far away. By all rights, I ought to go to dear Rupert and make him aware of my suspicions. But…”

“But?” Angel was genuinely concerned, but kept it from his countenance. Damn it! To be thwarted now…

However… “I find myself in a quandary. Rupert is, as they say, my partner, but I feel a certain… well… _paternal_ fondness for Miss Rosenberg and a desire to see her, as the Americans say, be all that she can be. I have a feeling you might well be a rather fitting consort for a budding witch.”

Angel was silent and solemn still. What was going on?

Rayne seemed to take umbrage. “What? No thank you? No offering of a glass of the best brandy? I’m giving you my blessing, you obtuse creature! Woo and win the girl. I shall keep up a pretense, but I shall do nothing effective to assist in any spell reversal and I highly doubt they’ll do the trick without my aid.”

With a smile, Angel went to a cupboard and then turned back to his guest. “I have some excellent brandy. Would you like some?”

Ethan smiled back.

Another member of his team. Angel liked his odds better than ever.

 

 

To be continued…


	45. Chapter 44

Broken Arrow (Chapter 44)

 

It was easier facing Buffy than Willow had thought it would be. A whole lot easier. Distractions had a way of doing that. Distractions in the form of crises _really_ did that. Distractions in the form of earth-shattering, apocalyptic, world-as-they-knew-it-ending crises absolutely, _positively_ did that .

The Prom loomed.

The _Prom_.

And she and Buffy? 

They were dateless.

Okay, Willow was totally on board with being supportive of Oz’s career and everything… but couldn’t this big break thing have waited until _after_ the most important social event of her entire life? 

“We could go together,” she opined, though even as she said it, the idea sounded… well, not so great. Girls who went stag were considered the lowest of the low, as in only slightly higher than Marcie Ross on the social leprosy scale (and didn’t Willow still get chills thinking about what happened to _her_ ). Girls without dates always stood in pathetic clumps around the punch bowl, not talking to each other, trying not to look too eager for someone to ask them to dance even though it was obvious that they were and oh god being one of them was her worst nightmare. There was always a photo of them in the yearbook with some coded caption that was supposedly kind but really meant: “Look at the Losers!”

Oh god. Now that she thought about it, she kind of hoped Buffy said no.

 

As much as she liked Willow, Buffy didn’t consider her Prom date material, even though she knew that hadn’t really been what she’d been proposing. But yeah, going to the Prom with your best same-sex-friend was not, unless your best friend was a ‘best friend, wink-wink, nudge-nudge,’ a viable course of action. “We could stay home. Watch movies. Taste test the entire Ben & Jerry’s line up.”

Even as she said it… no, it wasn’t any better than Willow’s idea. Everyone would know that they’d stayed home because they had no dates. They’d be scorned, mocked, their last days in high school marked by malicious whispers and muffled laughter.

Couldn’t there be demons or something? Oh, nothing deadly or even all that evil – not like Buffy wanted anyone to actually be _killed_ \- just something scary enough that it would make them cancel the Prom, that was all. Was that too much to ask?

“There’s really no option that isn’t social suicide, is there?” she grumbled, feeling the doom already upon her. 

“No.” Willow shook her head and Buffy’s gloom increased. “We’re lepers. Pariahs. The gum stuck to the bottom of the high school shoe.”

Willow’s gift for metaphor wasn’t always such a good thing. Buffy honestly didn’t enjoy thinking of herself as something sticky and gross.

And just to make everything even better, guess who was all but skipping into the library on Xander’s arm?

“Can you believe it? It’s almost Prom and we don’t even have an apocalypse this year. Oh, well, except for the part where you two don’t have dates.”

Buffy stifled a groan. What had she done to deserve this?

 

 

Ethan sat on Giles’s hideous sofa and smiled. What a lovely morning he’d had. That brandy Angel had served had been absolutely exquisite. Marquis de Montesquiou 1904 Vintage Armagnac, if his palate wasn’t mistaken – and it never was. Pity neither his nor Rupert’s budget was up to the purchase of a bottle. He was going to have to become better friends with that vampire. 

Of course, once Angel had managed to win the fair Willow, perhaps he’d deign to offer a bottle – or two – to the kindly Chaos Mage who’d graciously opened his eyes to charms so much more rare and refined than those of the Slayer. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do.

Speaking of gentlemanly, he hoped Rupert was taking a moment today to arrange for the shipping of his effects. This flat was horrid. A man of culture and sophistication could not be expected to bear such surroundings. If Rupert weren’t so… gifted at pursuits which offered a potent distraction from the environment, he wouldn’t stay here a moment longer. As it stood, however, age had not dulled his beloved’s skills one bit, so Ethan was willing to wait at least a brief time for this residence to be habitable.

He went into the kitchen and began opening doors to cupboards and appliances, sniffing disapprovingly at the modest larder. No caviar? No oysters? No foie gras? Not even any curry? Instead, there were some indifferent-looking vegetables, a rather suspicious-looking meat labeled corned beef which didn’t look the part to Ethan, and… oh merciful heavens. Weetabix? Really? Have we not emerged from our student days? Oh, Rupert, for that to be the only taste of home in this entire, miserable kitchen. Something needed to be done.

With a grim sense of determination, he went to Rupert’s desk and began going through the drawers. Ah. There it was. A credit card. Probably the one he stashed away for emergencies. Well, this was most assuredly an emergency of the highest order. Palming the card, Ethan made ready for some shopping.

When Rupert returned home, there’d be a proper English feast waiting on the table. 

That man had better appreciate him properly after this.

 

 

“Is there a reason for you to be here?” Angel was irritated. He was tired and he’d been dreaming of Willow when this latest visitor had barged into his home.

Faith smirked, slinking around his living room, tight tank top displaying plenty of perky tit. Admittedly, she was an eyeful and he was more than a little horny – if he weren’t in love with Willow he’d be happy for a sample of what was on offer. Somehow he didn’t think that casual sex would be a problem for his soul – especially not after what had felt like perfect happiness not long ago hadn’t dislodged it – but he knew it would get back to Willow and she’d be deeply hurt.

So he kept his expression – and anatomy – controlled and asked again, “Why are you here?”

“So serious. Are you always so eager to get down to business?” No, he didn’t miss the very clear double entendre. Hard to when she was draping herself across the back of his couch.

He raised an eyebrow and looked annoyed and she shrugged, as if to say “your loss.” But at least she got to the point. “B is really depressed these days. You’re really gettin’ to her.” That wasn’t Angel’s agenda, but since it was Faith’s, he let it slide. “Looks like there’s been no progress on reversing that spell.” He had been fairly sure that was the case, but the confirmation came in handy. “Everything seems to be going your way, huh? Willow’s squeeze leaving town and everything.” That last was a fishing expedition; he could tell by the way her eyes narrowed, looking for evidence of his involvement in his expression.

No dice, girl. He gave her nothing and waited. She still hadn’t come to the point and he was starting to get very annoyed. If she was like this when it came to sex, it would take her two hours just to get out of her jeans. But then… “Yeah, well, his timing couldn’t be any better, could it? What with the Prom coming up. The biggest day in a girl’s life and poor little Willow has no one to take her there.” Faith cooed and ran her hand along the top of the sofa. “Imagine, you and Willow in the back of a limo, taking advantage of all that room, sliding her pretty prom dress up… Not that you can go the distance, but I’m pretty sure there’s fun to be had between blue balls and perfect happiness.” She chuckled. “Poor B. Sitting at home with her Mom, crying her eyes out while her best friend gets the... brass ring.”

Faith's eyes went soft and shadowed for a split second and for a moment, Angel felt sorry for her. It was clear that she had her own dashed hopes and dreams. Not his problem, though, and she wasn’t the kind of person for whom it was smart to do favours. She’d see it as a sign of weakness if he made a move to help her make those dreams come true. Fortunately, he was put off enough by her malice towards Buffy to take away any sting of guilt.

Once again, just as she'd unwittingly done with Oz and his band, she'd pointed out the obvious to him in a way that made him see it in a new light. He hadn't really connected Willow with the Prom. He'd heard Buffy talk about it, of course, but it had always seemed to him something more conventional than he associated with Willow. But Faith might be right. Willow was, for all her intellect and magic, a girl - and a romantic one at that. Perhaps she had dreams of dancing with her classmates, dressed in her very best. Perhaps she was heartbroken at the idea of not attending.

He knew, just as Faith did, that Buffy must be tearing herself to pieces. He felt sympathy for her as well. Even more than he did for Faith. But there was nothing to be done.

Instead of worrying about either Slayer’s lonely Prom night, he decided to focus on the salient point. “Thanks,” he said, with a smirk Faith could – and would – interpret as she liked, “I think I can make the most of that opportunity.”

She smiled. “I know you can.”

A moment later she was gone. Good. Because Angel had plans to make.

 

 

To be continued…


	46. Chapter 45

Broken Arrow (Chapter 45)

 

A lovely little rack of lamb sat in the middle of the table, accompanied by crisp, fried sweetbreads, a delightful pea puree, and various other bits and bobs dear to his epicurean heart. Candles were lit and burning in the appallingly cheap candlesticks, providing the only light in what passed for the dining room. As if to mock them, an excellent Armand Rousseau Pinot Noir waited to be poured. And Ethan Rayne? He was dressed in a silk shirt and cashmere trousers, waiting for his Rupert to walk in and be moved to tears by his efforts. 

Well, to be perfectly frank, the actual _effort_ had been made by an accomodating catering firm conveniently familiar with classical cuisine, but Ethan _had_ gone to the trouble of finding them and consulting on the menu, so the credit did by rights belong to him after all. 

Even if the credit _card_ did not.

Who cared about such petty concerns anyway? It was all for Rupert and he was sure to see that.

As if on cue, the door opened and his weary lover entered the flat. 

Now was the moment when Rupert would sigh happily and the evening… well, it would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?

 

The moment he walked in the door, Giles knew something was amiss. He eyed Ethan carefully as he lounged insouciantly in a chair at the dining table, looking every bit the louche reprobate he was. What on Earth had the man been about? 

That was a lamb dinner set before him. A lamb dinner? He recalled Ethan’s legendary aversion to any sort of labour so he knew perfectly well that his so-called lover hadn’t spent the day slaving over a hot stove. This meal had been professionally catered. 

Which made Giles pause. 

Another thing to which Ethan was legendarily averse? Parting with his own money.

He rushed to his desk and went straight to where the credit card he saved for emergencies was kept. Of course it was gone.

“I should have known better than to leave him alone with…” he muttered under his breath.

He turned back to the table, laden with expensive gourmet delicacies.

How much had it cost? “Dear god!” he exclaimed as he met Ethan’s gaze, “You truly have gone too far this time! My credit card?” He could feel his face redden in anger. Yes, of course, he could dip into the family funds and pay the bill, but he’d been trying so hard to live within his means as a teacher. “Dammit, Ethan. You had no right!”

Naturally, Ethan all but batted his eyes in an attempt to look entirely innocent. “There wasn’t food fit to eat here. I only wanted you to have a proper meal. It’s not as if I was extravagant.”

Giles was having none of it. He was about to say something when he spied the wine bottle… and read the label. Now he was more furious than ever. “Not extravagant? That pinot noir is Armand Rousseau! Am I to believe that a wine costing an entire week of my salary was the only bottle on the shelf?” 

“Well if you’re going to be such an ungrateful, penny-pinching…”

Ungrateful? Ungrateful? Ethan had the nerve to…? “Get out!” he roared. “Get out of my house!”

 

 

“Can’t you ask another boy to the Prom?”

As much as Buffy loved her Mom, sometimes she was completely clueless. Now was one of those times. She’d been in high school once, even if it was eons ago. Didn’t she remember the rules? “You don’t just ask some random guy to the Prom. In fact, you’re not supposed to ask _them_ , they’re supposed to ask you.” 

Great. Mom looked totally baffled. Guess back in her day, guys clubbed you on the head before taking you to a dance. Would explain the bafflement. Concussions weren’t good for the memory.

Then she thought about her Mom and Giles and… you know, that whole ‘clubbing on the head’ thing might be a custom worth reviving. Heck, Buffy was down with the whole cavegirl idea. She’d probably look really good in one of those furry bikinis.

But, absent a big guy with a bigger stick, how was she going to deal with her Mom? Well, there was always, “All the cool guys already have dates.”

Oh no. Looked like she misjudged that one. The expression on her Mom’s face was pure Afterschool Special and Buffy was in for it now.

“Buffy, I’m disappointed in you. The ‘cool guys’? Are you really that shallow? I’m sure there are perfectly nice boys who aren’t ‘cool’ who’d love to go out with you, boys who have a lot more to offer than just being captain of the football team.”

Visions of Andrew Wells and Warren Mears danced in her head, followed by nausea. No way could she go to the Prom with someone like… Oh god. She _was_ shallow, wasn’t she?

So what if she was? Wasn’t every girl a _little_ bit shallow? If they weren’t, wouldn’t guys like that have girlfriends? But how to explain this to her Mom… Oh! “The only guys who don’t have dates were all friends with Jonathan Levinson. You know? The one who was going to shoot up the school? You really want me taking someone like that to the Prom? Because I will if you want, but you’ll have to spring for bail if I get arrested as an accessory to something that will totally _not_ be my fault.”

Her Mom’s expression changed immediately. Thank god. “Why don’t we rent some videos, pop some popcorn, make it a girl’s night in? Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Did her Mom really want an honest answer to that question? Probably not. But at least miserable-Buffy would have company. Speaking of which… “Can we make it a threesome? Willow’s dateless too.”

 

 

Still no email from _Gods Among Us_ , not that Willow really expected it, it was just… okay, call her Pollyanna (or maybe not, because she had always thought it seemed like a really silly name) but she had a hopeful streak and she had honestly believed that the person who ran the site genuinely wanted to help her.

One of these days, she was going to learn to be a cynic like Buffy. Then she wouldn’t be disappointed all the time.

She headed downstairs to the kitchen. Once again Mom hadn’t shopped before she and Dad had headed off on another in a long line of ‘we’ll be back in a few weeks’ trips… and yes, Willow was going to feel a sharp pang yet again when that ‘few weeks’ became two months. 

Let’s face it. If Sheila and Ira Rosenberg couldn’t do it, nothing was going to make a cynic out of Willow Rosenberg.

Also, nothing was going to make Top Ramen and frozen asparagus into dinner.

Picking up the phone, she debated whether tonight was going to be pizza or Chinese… and she was in the mood for neither. Great.

Well, it was sort of dark, but not really late and the store wasn’t… okay, yes, it _was_ a long walk, but darn it – she wanted real food. So, after going back to her room to get her purse, jacket, cross, and stake, she headed out the door on her way to the local Von’s Pavilion. Maybe the deli counter would still be open.

As she walked, she started to get that ooky ‘Hellmouth’ feeling. Turning her head as surreptitiously as she could manage, she noticed that a car had slowed down beside her. 

Oh god. Was this some creepy human guy? Because a cross and a stake were probably not going to be all that effective and… the window rolled down and she sighed with sort-of relief as she saw a familiar face. “Good evening, my dear. Could you use a lift?”

 

 

To be continued…


	47. Chapter 46

Broken Arrow (Chapter 46)

 

Ethan smiled in what he hoped was a reassuringly paternal manner as Willow took the proffered seat in his car even as he wondered what on Earth he was about. What a remarkable chance this would have been, happening upon the young witch all by herself, if he were the man he’d been a few scant weeks ago. He well knew what he’d have done then. Now, however… oh how the mighty had fallen. No, he had no intention of attempting to turn her power to entertainingly nefarious ends any longer. 

That did not mean, however, that he wasn’t going to get some advantage from this, if only because he would never allow himself to be completely domesticated. 

But how to balance that with his uncomfortably genuine concern for the young woman seated beside him, chewing nervously on her lower lip.

“What brings you out alone at night like this?” 

 

Should she tell him? This was Ethan Rayne, after all, the man who was completely responsible for ruining Buffy’s life – and pretty much ruining Willow’s too. Then again, he seemed pretty remorseful these days and he really _had_ tried to help out with the reversal and everything. For the umpteenth time, she really kind of wished she was more suspicious and cynical, because even as she was about to speak, she wondered, but… “My parents went out of town and they sort of forgot… I mean they didn’t have time to grocery shop.”

Oh great. He was looking at her like he felt sorry for her, which she didn’t want at all. On the other hand… it _was_ kind of nice that he seemed to feel bad about her parents just taking off like that. Still, there was something she wanted to make clear because she hated the idea of being demanding or presumptuous. “I just need to pick up a few things. Thanks for the ride. You don’t have to wait or drive me back or anything.”

“Now what sort of a friend would I be if I were to simply deposit you at the grocer’s and leave you to make your own way home?”

 

She seemed a bit taken aback by his words, by him calling himself her friend. Had he put his foot wrong there? Well, there was no taking it back now… and besides, he _was_ her friend, even if she wasn’t yet aware of that. Look at what he had done for her! Why thanks to him she had ascended the romantic ranks from that flea-bitten, scrawny werewolf to a rather handsome vampire – a vampire who’d once been the swain of the Slayer, no less. Frankly, Ethan thought she at least owed him a spell or two.

Of course, sadly, she didn’t yet see it that way, so he supposed he could make allowances until such time as she accepted her station. In the meantime… “I know I’ve apologized to the group _en masse_ , but I do feel I’ve been remiss in not doing so personally to you. You are, after all, the one most affected by my… thoughtless and rash actions. I sincerely hope you can forgive me.” He then fixed her with a gaze of heartfelt penitence.

Bless her innocent and trusting soul, because it worked to a marvel. He could almost _see_ her heart soften towards him. “I guess… love makes you do the wacky, huh?”

Oh the fruitiness of teenage argot, but it served, and Ethan smiled as he kept driving. “Which market do you prefer, by the way?”

 

 

“That will be just fine.” Angel hung up the phone. It had been a bit of a crisis of conscience, his decision to dip into the money he had stashed away from his days without a soul, but in the end… logic prevailed. The original sources of that money were long since dead and leaving the money just sitting there unused did no one any good. And since he had, from time to time, used piddling amounts, his self-imposed prohibition of using larger sums was – frankly – a ridiculously empty gesture.

So he’d just called an exclusive car agency and arranged for a chauffeured Rolls Royce to arrive on the night of Willow’s prom. She deserved to arrive in style.

Now all he needed to do was arrange for proper attire for them both.

Picking up the phone again, he made another call. This time to a personal shopper at Neiman Marcus. No, he didn’t know Willow’s exact sizes, but he was well aware of the skill of the women employed at the luxurious department store and he had every confidence that she’d find something perfect. 

Willow was going to be the belle of the ball.

What better gift to give to the woman he loved?

When the night was over, she’d realize how right things were and any ideas of reversing the spell would be well and truly erased from her mind.

 

 

Willow’s eyes were wide and her expression innocent as Ethan accompanied her through the harshly-lit aisles of the grocery store. As much as he was prone to condescend to her naiveté, he had to confess that it did hold rather a lot of charm. If he had a daughter… Well, of course, she’d be nothing like Miss Rosenberg, but it would be nice if she were.

“So did you need to get some stuff too? Is that why you were out tonight?”

Oh dear. He’d been afraid she’d ask, though why, he had no idea. She was as easily deceived as a child. So on that note, he was about to agree with her – what was a white lie between new friends? – when, unaccountably, he blurted out the truth. “Rupert and I had a bit of a disagreement and… well, he threw me out, to be quite truthful. I was taking a drive to clear my head.” What on Earth had possessed him to tell her?

She stopped pushing her cart and turned fully to face him, fixing him with a gaze still innocent yet oddly shrewd at the same time. “What did you do?”

Though he had no right to be, Ethan was offended. “What do you mean? How can you be so sure I was the offending party?”

Her eyes narrowed and now she stood, arms akimbo, fixing him with the most quelling expression. He’d never thought he could be intimidated by a slip of a girl and yet… “All right. You do have a point there and one could, I suppose, see me as the one at fault. Heaven knows, Rupert certainly does.”

The expression remained and there seemed to be no escaping it, so Ethan gave in and admitted, “I wanted us to have a lovely meal. You know, something elegant and British and… well, I’m not the slightest bit handy in the kitchen, so I called a catering firm and… all right, I might have borrowed Rupert’s credit card to pay for it.” He straightened himself, trying to salvage at least some of his dignity. “But after all, the meal _was_ for him. He had nothing fit to eat.”

 

“That’s stealing!” Willow’s Resolve Face blazed. She was… well, she shouldn’t have been, but yes, she was shocked. Okay, she got that trying to walk the straight and narrow for the first time was rough, but how could he do that to someone he claimed to love? And his excuse? It wasn’t even an excuse! It was a totally weak justification! 

Then memory kicked in and her moral high ground began to give way beneath her.

She should know about weak justifications, huh? Like when she was kissing Xander and she had lots of excuses, but none of them made it okay. Guess maybe she wasn’t much better than Ethan, was she? Her Resolve Face faded and she reached out and put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I mean, what you did was wrong, yeah, but this whole ‘good guy’ thing is sort of new to you, so… But you still shouldn’t have done it.” Did she sound as incoherent as she thought she did?

Maybe not, because at least Ethan looked like he got it. 

“I see your point.” Which seemed to confirm her perception. But he looked really crestfallen now.

Bet Giles was feeling really badly too, she realized. After all, for him to take Ethan back after everything he’d already done – especially that Eyghon thing – he must really love him. She patted Ethan’s arm gently. “I think he’ll forgive you.”

“Really?” Ethan’s eyes almost lit up. Gosh. He had it bad, huh?

“You just have to apologize, that’s all. And mean it.”

He looked almost giddy and she started to head for the checkout with her groceries. He would definitely want to be getting back to Giles now.

Then she realized she’d forgotten something. “Oh, and you’ll need to pay him back.”

 

 

To be continued…


	48. Chapter 47

Broken Arrow (Chapter 47)

 

Ethan debated whether to knock at the door of Rupert’s depressing flat but, after a moment’s reflection, decided against it. Why allow the miserable man the chance to refuse him entry?

So, slipping the spare key he’d _borrowed_ from his pocket, he unlocked the door and slipped quietly into the flat.

What a sight greeted his eyes. Rupert was unconscious – face flat and turned uncomfortably in the direction of the doorway – on the dining table… an empty bottle of Armand Rousseau lying on its side next to his head. Of all the nerve! After all the trouble Ethan had gone to in order to obtain that splendid vintage! Did Rupert have to drink _all_ of it? Was Ethan supposed to take comfort in the fact that most of the dinner sat untouched?

It was almost enough to make him turn around and leave. It would serve Rupert right. But then he looked again at that face, softly snoring and eyes closed, and he gave up the fight. “Oh Rupert,” he sighed as he sat down and dished himself up some rather lukewarm lamb, “why do you have such a hold upon me?”

The man never stirred and Ethan’s eyes never left him as he partook of the now less than perfect repast without so much as a sip of that beautiful wine to wash it down.

Love. 

And people thought _chaos_ was terrible.

 

 

Patrol. It could have been a great time for Buffy to collect her thoughts or at least feel sorry for herself in peace, but it wasn’t. Because she wasn’t alone.

“It’s gotta suck, huh, B? Your guy wanting to sink his fangs into another girl. Your best friend even.”

She wanted to punch Faith in the jaw, or at least tell her to mind her own business, but the first course of action wasn’t necessarily wise against a fellow Slayer who was no slouch at fighting dirty and the second would be a neon bull’s-eye announcing that she’d been hurt. “It was a spell,” she answered with a shrug. "Besides, Angel and I were kind of doomed anyway.” And hey, bonus points for a monotone and what she felt was a truly credible final line.

Managing to keep her expression completely casual, she didn’t flinch under Faith’s stare. Faith might have fists, but she was no match for Buffy in a battle of mind and will. 

Didn’t stop Faith from trying, though. Boy did she have an intense stare.

No match for Buffy’s, though, and in the end… guess who blinked. Not Buffy.

Faith chuckled – and eww, did it sound dirty. “Yeah, well, it’s gotta be for the best right? I mean, as horny as slaying can make ya, it must have been a bitch not being able to get some.”

“Whatever,” Buffy responded, with an eye-roll that was meant as a clear statement that the subject was closed. Lucky for her she also had some help. “Behind you, to the right,” she yelled, as she let her stake fall from her sleeve while Faith whirled around to face the danger.

Two vamps, obvious newbies, but pretty big guys.

Time to slay.

Oh, and for the record. She wasn’t Faith. Slaying did _not_ make her horny.

It didn’t.

It _didn’t._

 

 

Willow sat at her kitchen table, letting the steam from her frozen Salisbury steak dinner waft upwards. Hey, it was better than yet another pizza. Besides, she’d bought real food for actual cooking too, she just wasn’t up to it tonight.

She was tired and confused and feeling guilty and… okay, she got that being a teenager was awful for almost everyone – unless they were Cordelia Chase – but she still had the feeling that she was cornering the market on angst.

Was this her being punished for kissing Xander? Because everyone who actually had a stake in that transgression had accepted her apology. Even Cordelia. Who’d been _impaled_.

Oh good! The coffee was done. Because as bad as being awake with all these thinky thoughts was, after last night’s naughty dreams, being asleep would be much worse.

Nightmares would be better.

Even nightmares involving public nudity or singing in public.

She got up and poured a nice, big cup. Even the smell said ‘caffeine buzz’ and she felt a sense of relief. This was an elixir not even a comfort food meal of Salisbury steak and macaroni and cheese could counteract. 

So she sat back down and began to tuck into her dinner as she waited for her coffee to cool down a little bit.

Dinner.

That brought her mind back to Ethan Rayne.

Was he patching things up with Giles?

You know, as mad as she had been at him, and as much as his spell was still ruining her life, she did sort of hope he and Giles would be happy and she wondered why.

Maybe it was because he’d been so sad after Ms. Calendar died and that he didn’t deserve to be alone. That was true, too. And really, if Ethan hadn’t chased him, Giles would probably still be by himself. After all, Jenny Calendar had also been the one who did the pursuing.

Giles was kind of a girl, wasn’t he?

Again, she had to chide herself for internalizing sexist stereotypes. Why couldn’t men be passive or women be aggressive without it being seen as somehow wrong?

But back to the topic at hand, mainly Ethan and Giles…

Oh god! She hadn’t thought about it, but what was Buffy going to think? She was kind of possessive when it came to Giles, what with him being her Watcher. There was also the fact that Willow and Buffy hadn’t had the chance to have the ‘what about Giles possibly being gay or maybe bi’ conversation. Would Buffy be okay with that? Sure she had never _seemed_ intolerant, but did Buffy even know any gay people really well?

Of course, when it came down to it, Willow couldn’t say she did either. Well, except possibly her Cousin Irv, the one who used to bring his ‘best friends' - a different one every time - to family gatherings when she was a child. Her parents never wanted to answer any of her questions about him, though, so it wasn’t like Willow was even sure he was gay. He just seemed to really like being with his best friends… who were always really good-looking blond guys. Especially the one he’d brought to her Bat Mitzvah. 

Whose hand he’d held the whole time.

Okay, very probably gay.

And was it just her or did practically every guy, straight or gay, seem to prefer blondes?

Well, there was Giles, and Xander. They didn’t seem to have a hair colour thing. But Angel… Guess not so much right now, but when the spell was reversed, yeah, he’d be all about blondes then. 

Which was good. Because he was supposed to be into blondes. Buffy in particular. And only, for that matter.

No, Willow wasn’t the least bit upset at that thought.

She wasn’t.

She so wasn’t.

Oh god. She was. She really was.

Somehow through all of this, and completely without any intention whatsoever, she’d started sort of _liking_ the idea of Angel being attracted to her and thinking she was interesting and also pretty and… she was a terrible, horrible, very bad person and an even more terrible, horrible, very bad friend and…

She even liked the kissing. 

Coffee had betrayed her, she decided, staring balefully at the impassive, unconcerned mug sitting implacably before her. Wasn’t it supposed to keep her all wired and distracted and un-Angel-think-y? Well, it hadn’t. 

Was there somewhere she could send a complaint?

She couldn’t help it. Willow started to cry. 

But she was still going to work hard to reverse that spell. 

Because now she deserved to suffer more than ever.

Leaving the rest of her dinner to get cold, but armed with the coffee she was willing to give a chance at redemption, she marched determinedly to her room. 

Back to work, Willow.

 

 

To be continued…


	49. Chapter 48

Broken Arrow (Chapter 48)  
  
  
  
  
  
Ouch! Willow awoke, seated at her desk, back and neck aching and body sore. Not a comfortable night and worst of all, it had all been for nothing. She’d even gone back to the  _Gods Among Us_ board, but the admins there had been snippy with her and told her that they’d given her contact info to the guy they knew and it wasn’t their problem anymore.  
  
Great.  
  
Against her will, her mind drifted back to Angel. You know, under other circumstances, he’d be the perfect person to talk to about this stuff. His eyes didn’t glaze over at the mere mention of computers and he’d probably have good ideas about where she could look and… No! No, no, no. Willow Rosenberg, stop thinking about your best friend’s… well technically,  _ex_ -boyfriend, but still…  
  
Of course, the more she tried to  _stop_  thinking about Angel, the more her mind dug in its heels and kept playing back memories of conversations…  
  
…and kissing.  
  
Really amazing kissing.  
  
Oh god. She was a bad, bad Willow.  
  
But in her defense, Angel was a very good kisser.  
  
Of course, he’d had centuries to practice.  
  
What did he think of her? Or rather, what  _would_  he think when (not if,  _when_ , because she was still determined) the spell was broken?  
  
Guess she already knew that, huh?  
  
It hurt and it hadn’t even happened yet. Because once he was back to normal, he’d probably be disgusted that he’d ever thought he wanted an inexperienced geek like her. Not like she was in Buffy’s league, was she?  
  
She started to cry.  
  
Why did she have to start having feelings for him? Because hers? They were real. His? Not.  
  
It wasn’t fair. What had she done to deserve this? She’d kissed Xander. Okay. But he’d kissed her too and she didn’t see anything horrible happening to  _him_! Hadn’t the universe heard of feminism and equality and fundamental fairness?  
  
What was Oz doing now? Was he sleeping off a long night of playing? What was he going to do when the full moon came? Would they have a place to keep him caged up? Did Devon even know?   
  
How had she never asked about that? What kind of girlfriend didn’t ask important questions like whether the guys in her boyfriend’s band knew he was a werewolf?  
  
She’d asked Angel all kinds of stuff.  
  
Looking back, she thought maybe she knew more about Angel than she did about Oz.  
  
Bad Willow! Bad, bad, bad!  
  
Just then, the phone rang.  
  
She picked it up.  
  
A voice she really wasn’t ready to hear was on the other end.  
  
“Hey, Buffy.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Giles awoke, head pounding like the beat of that infernal music Buffy favoured when training, and his mouth tasting as if some particularly foul demon had died a horrible death and begun decomposing therein. How could Armand Rousseau have done him such grievous wrong?  
  
Wait a moment.   
  
He was in bed.   
  
His bed.  
  
And he was undressed.  
  
Oh, not completely, but the removal of even a single article of clothing would have been beyond his power last night if this morning’s hangover were any indication of his condition.   
  
So how…  
  
The answer was provided by an unforgivably cheery voice calling out and setting his head to throbbing more wretchedly than ever.  
  
“I see you’re awake at last, Rupert. Quite a blessing that it’s a Saturday because you’re in no fit state to instruct children in the finer points of literature and vampire slaying.”   
  
Giles wanted to tell him to go away, but the anger he’d felt so intensely last night was eclipsed by the extreme discomfort of the state in which he now found himself and Ethan was carrying a tray on which sat… “Is that bacon and eggs I smell?”  
  
“Indeed it is,” Ethan chirped rather annoyingly. “And a Bloody Mary. An American tradition in such cases as yours, and one of which I confess to having become quite fond.”  
  
The tray was set before him and Giles reached gratefully for the beverage perched upon it. Right now, he could forgive Ethan anything.  
  
  
  
Ethan smiled indulgently at his rather bedraggled lover. He was even handsome in this condition, which said something for either Rupert’s charms or Ethan’s folly, though perhaps it was an admixture of the two. “I suggest eating as well,” he offered as he watched Rupert drain every last drop of the ‘hair of the dog.’   
  
Rupert nodded without speaking and began nibbling at the eggs and bacon that Ethan had prepared. It was one of the few meals he was capable of cooking with any skill, such tasks being beneath a natural aristocrat like himself. If only he had a chef in his employ. Now  _that_  would suit him down to the ground. But necessity, sadly… Amazing how difficult conjuring money was. It was far easier to raise the dead.   
  
Soon enough, Rupert had finished the plate and colour had returned to his greyish countenance. “Feeling more yourself again?”  
  
His question was greeted with narrowed eyes and that prissy expression he found both irksome and arousing. “May I ask what you’re doing here? I distinctly remember demanding that you leave.”  
  
Oh yes indeed – Rupert was back to his old self.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Buffy breathed in and out, feeling more anxious with every step. She’d told Willow that she just wanted to have a Girls’ Day – you know, John Cusack movies, Ben & Jerry’s, mocking Harmony, pretending neither of them cared that tonight, while everyone who wasn't them was at the Prom, they’d be at home with Mom watching Thelma and Louise – but the truth was that for some reason, after last night’s annoying patrol conversation with Faith, Buffy had decided it was time for her and Willow to finally have a talk.  
  
To have ‘The Talk’, in fact.  
  
The big one.  
  
The one they’d managed to avoid completely.  
  
The talk about Angel.  
  
Oh sure, they’d  _sort of_  talked about Angel, as in, how Buffy felt about the break-up and how to try and reverse the spell, but they hadn’t really…  _talked_.  
  
And they needed to.  
  
So today was going to be the day.  
  
Because honesty and openness were important in a friendship  
  
Which was why she was going to her best friend’s house under false pretenses to blindside her when she was completely unprepared.  
  
Okay, maybe she hadn’t thought this through all that well, but it was too late now because she was psyched for this for the moment. Besides, there was no way she was going to be able to do this if she postponed it, so…  
  
Oh god. How far away was Willow’s house? Because for some reason it seemed like it was taking way longer than usual to get there. Which was bad. Because it was giving Buffy way too much time to think.  
  
She’d said it before, but it bore repeating: How the heck did Willow cope with thinking all the time?   
  
But she supposed that thinking kind of needed to be done. While she knew in a general way what she was she going to say, the specifics were pretty unspecific right now. Then again, how  _should_ you ask your best friend how she felt about  _your_  ex-boyfriend being in love with her?  
  
How should you ask her if she liked kissing him?  
  
How should you ask her if she had feelings for him too?  
  
Was there a chance she’d hate the answers?  
  
You know, maybe this was all a really bad idea. Maybe she should turn around and go back home, claim a sudden cold, even though she hadn’t been sick once since she’d had the flu over a year ago and everyone knew her immune system was another Slayer power and…   
  
Oh no. Somehow she’d not only arrived at Willow’s house without realizing it, but she heard too late to stop it that she had just rung the doorbell.   
  
The door opened and there was Willow.  
  
What was she going to do?  
  
Buffy Summers, Slayer Number One – just to make that clear, since now there were two of them – did what she did best. She stopped thinking and just went on instinct.  
  
Two seconds later she had pushed past Willow and was standing in her living room. “Will, we need to talk. About Angel.”  
  
  
  
  
  
To be continued…


End file.
